Lundys 
Lane 

and 
OTHER POEMS 

D 7 ' NCAN 
y CAMPBELL SCOTT 











Book. Ccj U^ — 
Oopi#rt"N° ^J 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Lundy's Lane 

and Other Poems 



By 

Duncan Campbell Scott 

Author of "The Magic House," "In the Village 
°f Viger" etc., etc. 




New York 
George H. Doran Company 









Copyright, 191 6, 
By GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



AUG 21 1916 



Printed in the United States of America 



.A437344 



To the Memory of My Daughter 

ELIZABETH DUNCAN SCOTT 

1895-1907 



CONTENTS 



CONTENTS 

Page 

THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE . . . . 1 3 

VIA BOREALIS — 

Spring on Mattagami 25 

An Impromptu 36 

The Half-Breed Girl 38 

Night Burial in the Forest .... 41 

Dream Voyageurs ....... 44 

Song: Creep into My Heart .... 45 

Ecstasy 46 

LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS — 

Meditation at Perugia 49 

At William MacLennan's Grave. Near 

Florence 53 

The Wood-Spring to the Poet ... 56 

The November Pansy 63 

The Height of Land 68 

- New Year's Night, 1916 77 

vii 



CONTENTS 



Page 
Fragment of an Ode to Canada . . .79 

Fantasia 84 

The Lover to His Lass 86 

The Ghost's Story 90 

Night 9 2 

The Apparition 94 

At Sea 96 

Madonna with Two Angels .... 98 

Mid-August 100 

Mist and Frost . 105 

The Beggar and the Angel . . . .110 

Improvisation on an Old Song . . .117 

O Turn Once More 121 

At the Gill-Nets 124 

A Love Song 126 

Three Songs: 

I Where love is life 128 

II Nothing came here but sunlight . 129 

III I have songs of dancing pleasure . 129 

The Sailor's Sweetheart 131 

Feuilles d'Automne 133 

viii 



CONTENTS 



To the Heroic Soul: Page 

I Nurture thyself, O Soul! . . . 135 

II Be strong, O Warring Soul! . .136 

Retrospect I 3 8 

Frost Magic: 

I Now in the moonrise, from a wintry 

sky J 39 

II With these alone he draws in magic 

lines x 40 

In Snow-Time H* 

, To a Canadian Lad Killed in the War . 143 

THE CLOSED DOOR — 

By a Child's Bed H7 

Elizabeth Speaks . . 149 

A Legend of Christ's Nativity . . . 154 

Willow-Pipes l6 3 

Angel l6 4 

Christmas Folk-Song l6 5 

From Beyond l66 

The Leaf l6 7 

A Mystery Play l68 

LINES IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS . 179 

ix 



THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE 



THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE 



THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE 

Rufus Gale speaks — 1852 

LfES,— in the Lincoln Militia,— in the war of 
* eighteen-twelve ; 

Many's the day I've had since then to dig 

and delve — 
But those are the years I remember as the 

brightest years of all, 
When we left the plow in the furrow to fol- 
low the bugle's call. 
Why, even our son Abner wanted to fight 

with the men! 
"Don't you go, d'ye hear, sir!"— I was 

angry with him then. 
"Stay with your mother!" I said, and he 

looked so old and grim — 
He was just sixteen that April — I couldn't 

believe it was him; 
But I didn't think — I was off — and we 

met the foe again, 
[13] 



THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE 

THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE (contd.) 

Five thousand strong and ready, at the hill 

by Lundy's Lane. 
There as the night came on we fought them 

from six to nine, 
Whenever they broke our line we broke 

their line, 
They took our guns and we won them again, 

and around the levels 
Where the hill sloped up — with the Eighty- 
ninth, — we fought like devils 
Around the flag ; — and on they came and 

we drove them back, 
Until with its very fierceness the fight 

grew slack. 

FT was then about nine and dark as a miser's 

pocket, 
When up came Hercules Scott's brigade swift 

as a rocket, 
And charged, — and the flashes sprang in the 

dark like a lion's eyes ; 
The night was full of fire — groans, and 

cheers, and cries; 

[14] 



THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE 

THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE (contd.) 

Then through the sound and the fury another 

sound broke in — 
The roar of a great old duck-gun shattered the 

rest of the din; 
It took two minutes to charge it and another 

to set it free. 
Every time I heard it an angel spoke to me ; 
Yes, the minute I heard it I felt the strangest 

tide 
Flow in my veins like lightning, as if, there, 

by my side, 
Was the very spirit of Valor. But 'twas dark 

— you couldn't see — 
And the one who was firing the duck-gun fell 

against me 
And slid down to the clover, and lay there 

still; 
Something went through me — piercing — 

with a strange, swift thrill; 
The noise fell away into silence, and I heard 

as clear as thunder 
The long, slow roar of Niagara: O the won- 
der 

[15] 



THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE 

THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE (contd.) 

Of that deep sound. But again the battle 

broke 
And the foe, driven before us desperately — 

stroke upon stroke, 
Left the field to his master, and sullenly down 

the road 
Sounded the boom of his guns, trailing the 

heavy load 
Of his wounded men and his shattered flags, 

sullen and slow, 
Setting fire in his rage to Bridgewater mills, 

and the glow 
Flared in the distant forest. We rested as we 

could, 
And for a while I slept in the dark of a maple 

wood: 
But when the clouds in the east were red all 

over, 
I came back there to the place we made the 

stand in the clover; 
For my heart was heavy then with a strange, 

deep pain, 

[16] 



THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE 

THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE (contd.) 

As I thought of the glorious fight, and again 

and again 
I remembered the valiant spirit and the pierc- 
ing thrill; 
But I knew it all when I reached the top of 

the hill, — 
For there, there with the blood on his dear, 

brave head, 
There on the hill in the clover lay our Abner 

— dead ! — 
No — thank you — no, I don't need it; I'm 

solid as granite rock, 
But every time that I tell it I feel the old, cold 

shock, 
I'm eighty-one my next birthday — do you 

breed such fellows now? 
There he lay with the dawn cooling his broad 

fair brow, 
That was no dawn for him ; and there was the 

old duck-gun 
That many and many's the time, — just for the 

fun, 

[17] 



THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE 

THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE (contd.) 

We together, alone, would take to the hickory 

rise, 
And bring home more wild pigeons than ever 

you saw with your eyes. 
Up with Hercules Scott's brigade, just as it 

came on night — 
He was the angel beside me in the thickest of 

the fight — 
Wrote a note to his mother — He said, " I've 

got to go; 
Mother what would home be under the heel 

of the foe!" 
Oh ! she never slept a wink, she would rise and 

walk the floor; 
She'd say this over and over, " I knew it all 

before!" 
I'd try to speak of the glory to give her a little 

joy. 
" What is the glory to me when I want my 

boy, my boy ! " 
She'd say, and she'd wring her hands ; her hair 

grew white as snow — 

[!8] 



THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE 



THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE (contd.) 

And I'd argue with her up and down, to and 

fro, 
Of how she had mothered a hero, and his was 

a glorious fate, 
Better than years of grubbing to gather an 

estate. 
Sometimes I'd put it this way: " If God was 

to say to me now 
' Take him back as he once was helping you 

with the plow,' 
I'd say, 'No, God, thank You kindly; 'twas 

You that he obeyed ; 
You told him to fight and he fought, and he 

wasn't afraid; 
You wanted to prove him in battle, You sent 

him to Lundy's Lane, 
'Tis well ! " But she only would answer over 

and over again, 
" Give me back my Abner — give me back my 

son!" 
It was so all through the winter until the 

spring had begun, 

[19] 



THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE 

THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE (contd.) 

And the crocus was up in the dooryard, and 

the drift by the fence was thinned, 
And the sap drip-dropped from the branches 

wounded by the wind, 
And the whole earth smelled like a flower, — 

then she came to me one night — 
" Rufus ! " she said, with a sob in her throat, — 

" Rufus, you're right/' 
I hadn't cried till then, not a tear — but then 

I was torn in two — 
There, it's all right — my eyes don't see as 

they used to do ! 

r> UT O the joy of that battle — it was worth 

the whole of life, 
You felt immortal in action with the rapture 

of the strife, 
There in the dark by the river, with the 

flashes of fire before, 
Running and crashing along, there in the 

dark, and the roar 
Of the guns, and the shrilling cheers, and the 

knowledge that filled your heart 

[20] 



THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE 



THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE (contd.) 

That there was a victory making and you 

must do your part, 
But — there's his grave in the orchard where 

the headstone glimmers white : 
We could see it, we thought, from our win- 
dow even on the darkest night ; 
It is set there for a sign that what one lad 

could do 
Would be done by a hundred hundred lads 

whose hearts were stout and true. 
And when in the time of trial you hear the 

recreant say, 
Shooting his coward lips at us, " You shall 

have had your day: 
For all your state and glory shall pass like a 

cloudy wrack, 
And here some other flag shall fly where flew 

the Union Jack," — 
Why tell him a hundred thousand men would 

spring from these sleepy farms, 
To tie that flag in its ancient place with the 

sinews of their arms; 

[21] 



THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE 

THE BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE (contd.) 

And if they doubt you and put you to scorn, 

, why you can make it plain, 
With the tale of the gallant Lincoln men and 
the fight at Lundy's Lane. 

1908. 



[22] 



VIA BOREALIS 



TO 

Pelham Edgar 



SPRING ON MATTAGAMI 



SPRING ON MATTAGAMI 

T7AR in the east the rain-clouds sweep and 
A harry, 

Down the long haggard hills, formless and 
low, 
Far in the west the shell-tints meet and 
marry, 
Piled gray and tender blue and roseate 
snow; 
East — like a fiend, the bolt-breasted, stream- 
ing 
Storm strikes the world with lightning and 
with hail; 
West — like the thought of a seraph that is 
dreaming, 
Venus leads the young moon down the vale. 

'T^HROUGH the lake furrow between the 
-* gloom and bright'ning 

Firm runs our long canoe with a whistling 
rush, 

[25] 



VIA BOREALIS 



SPRING ON MATTAGAMI (continued) 

While Potan the wise and the cunning Silver 
Lightning 
Break with their slender blades the long 
clear hush ; 
Soon shall I pitch my tent amid the birches, 
Wise Potan shall gather boughs of balsam 
fir, 
While for bark and dry wood Silver Light- 
ning searches; 
Soon the smoke shall hang and lapse in the 
moist air. 

COON shall I sleep — if I may not remember 
One who lives far away where the storm- 
cloud went; 
May it part and starshine burn in many a 
quiet ember, 
Over her towered city crowned with large 
content ; 
Dear God, let me sleep, here where deep 
peace is, 
Let me own a dreamless sleep once for all 
the years, 

[26] 



SPRING ON MATTAGAMI 

SPRING ON MATTAGAMI (continued) 

Let me know a quiet mind and what heart 
ease is, 
Lost to light and life and hope, to longing 
and to tears. 



TTERE in the solitude less her memory presses, 
Yet I see her lingering where the birches 
shine, 
All the dark cedars are sleep-laden like her 
tresses, 
The gold-moted wood-pools pellucid as her 
eyen; 
Memories and ghost-forms of the days de- 
parted 
People all the forest lone in the dead of 
night ; 
While Potan and Silver Lightning sleep, the 
happy-hearted, 
Troop they from their fastnesses upon my 
sight. 



[27] 



VIA BOREALIS 



SPRING ON MATTAGAMI (continued) 

/^\NCE when the tide came straining from the 
^ Lido, 

In a sea of flame our gondola flickered like 
a sword, 
Venice lay abroad builded like beauty's credo, 
Smouldering like a gorget on the breast of 
the Lord: 
Did she mourn for fame foredoomed or pas- 
sion shattered 
That with a sudden impulse she gathered 
at my side ? 
But when I spoke the ancient fates were flat- 
tered, 
Chill there crept between us the imper- 
ceptible tide. 



/^\NCE I well remember in her twilight gar- 
^~^ den, 

She pulled a half-blown rose, I thought it 
meant for me, 
But poising in the act, and with half a sigh for 
pardon, 

[28] 



SPRING ON MATTAGAMI 

SPRING ON MATTAGAMI (continued) 

She hid it in her bosom where none may 
dare to see : 
Had she a subtle meaning? — would to God 
I knew it, 
Where'er I am I always feel the rose leaves 
nestling there, 
If I might know her mind and the thought 
which then flashed through it, 
My soul might look to heaven not commis- 
sioned to despair. 



T 



HOUGH she denied at parting the gift that 
I besought her, 
Just a bit of ribbon or a strand of her hair ; 
Though she would not keep the token that I 
brought her, 
Proud she stood and calm and mar- 
vellously fair; 
Yet I saw her spirit — truth cannot dis- 
semble — 
Saw her pure as gold, staunch and keen 
and brave, 

[29] 



VIA BOREALIS 



SPRING ON MATTAGAMI (continued) 

For she knows my worth and her heart was 
all atremble, 
Lest her will should weaken and make her 
heart a slave. 



TF she could be here where all the world is 
eager 
For dear love with the primal Eden sway, 
Where the blood is fire and no pulse is thin 
or meagre, 
All the heart of all the world beats one way ! 
There is the land of fraud and fame and 
fashion, 
Joy is but a gaud and withers in an hour, 
Here is the land of quintessential passion, 
Where in a wild throb Spring wells up with 
power. 

CHE would hear the partridge drumming in 
the distance, 
Rolling out his mimic thunder in the sultry 
noons ; 

[30] 



SPRING ON MATTAGAMI 



SPRING ON MATTAGAMI (continued) 

Hear beyond the silver reach in ringing wild 
persistence 
Reel remote the ululating laughter of the 
loons ; 
See the shy moose fawn nestling by its 
mother, 
In a cool marsh pool where the sedges 
meet; 
Rest by a moss-mound where the twin-flowers 
smother 
With a drowse of orient perfume drenched 
in light and heat: 

CHE would see the dawn rise behind the 
^ smoky mountain, 

In a jet of colour curving up to break, 
While like spray from the iridescent fountain, 
Opal fires weave over all the oval of the 
lake: 
She would see like fireflies the stars alight and 
spangle 
All the heaven meadows thick with grow- 
ing dusk, 

[3i] 



VIA BOREALIS 



SPRING ON MATTAGAMI (continued) 

Feel the gipsy airs that gather up and tangle 
The woodsy odours in a maze of myrrh and 
musk: 



'TWERE in the forest all the birds are nesting, 
Tells the hermit thrush the song he cannot 
tell, 
While the white-throat sparrow never rest- 
ing, 
Even in the deepest night rings his crystal 
bell: 
O, she would love me then with a wild ela- 
tion, 
Then she must love me and leave her 
lonely state, 
Give me love yet keep her soul's imperial 
reservation, 
Large as her deep nature and fathomless 
as fate: 



[32] 



SPRING ON MATTAGAMI 

SPRING ON MATTAGAMI (continued) 

' I V HEN, if she would lie beside me in the even, 
On my deep couch heaped of balsam fir, 
Fragrant with sleep as nothing under 
heaven, 
Let the past and future mingle in one blur ; 
While all the stars were watchful and there- 
under 
Earth breathed not but took their silent 
light, 
All life withdrew and wrapt in a wild wonder 
Peace fell tranquil on the odorous night : 

CHE would let me steal, — not consenting or 
denying — 
One strong arm beneath her dusky hair, 
She would let me bare, not resisting or com- 
plying, 
One sweet breast so sweet and firm and 
fair; 
Then with the quick sob of passion's shy en- 
deavour, 
She would gather close and shudder and 
swoon away, 

[33] 



VIA BO REAL IS 



SPRING ON MATTAGAMI (continued) 

She would be mine for ever and for ever, 
Mine for all time and beyond the judgment 
day. 

T TAIN is the dream, and deep with all de- 
rision — 
Fate is stern and hard — fair and false and 
vain — 
But what would life be worth without the 
vision, 
Dark with sordid passion, pale with wring- 
ing pain? 
What I dream is mine, mine beyond all cavil, 
Pure and fair and sweet, and mine for ever- 
more, 
And when I will my life I may unravel, 
And find my passion dream deep at the red 
core. 



T TENUS sinks first lost in ruby splendour, 

Stars like wood-daffodils grow golden in 
the night, 

[34] 



SPRING ON MATTAGAMI 

SPRING ON MATTAGAMI (continued) 

Far, far above, in a space entranced and ten- 
der, 
Floats the growing moon pale with virgin 
light. 
Vaster than the world or life or death my 
trust is 
Based in the unseen and towering far 
above ; 
Hold me, O Law, that deeper lies than Jus- 
tice, 
Guide me, O Light, that stronger burns 
than Love. 



[35] 



VIA BOREALIS 



H 



B 



AN IMPROMPTU 

ERE in the pungent gloom 

Where the tamarac roses glow 
And the balsam burns its perfume, 
A vireo turns his slow- 
Cadence, as if he gloated 
Over the last phrase he floated ; 
Each one he moulds and mellows 
Matching it with its fellows: 
So have you noted 
How the oboe croons, 
The canary-throated, 
In the gloom of the violoncellos 
And bassoons. 

UT afar in the thickset forest 

I hear a sound go free, 
Crashing the stately neighbours 
The pine and the cedar tree, 
Horns and harps and tabors, 
[36] 



AN IMPROMPTU 



AN IMPROMPTU (continued) 

Drumming and harping and horning 
In savage minstrelsy — 
It wakes in my soul a warning 
Of the wind of destiny. 



lV/f Y life is soaring and swinging 
In triple walls of quiet, 
In my heart there is rippling and ringing 
A song with melodious riot, 
When a fateful thing comes nigh it 
A hush falls, and then 
I hear in the thickset world 
The wind of destiny hurled 
On the lives of men. 



[37] 



VIA BOREALIS 



THE HALF-BREED GIRL 

QHE is free of the trap and the paddle, 
The portage and the trail, 
But something behind her savage life 
Shines like a fragile veil. 



H 



O 



O 



ER dreams are undiscovered, 
Shadows trouble her breast, 

When the time for resting cometh 
Then least is she at rest. 

FT in the morns of winter, 

When she visits the rabbit snares, 

An appearance floats in the crystal air 
Beyond the balsam firs. 

FT in the summer mornings 
When she strips the nets of fish, 

The smell of the dripping net-twine 
Gives to her heart a wish. 

[38] 



THE HALF-BREED GIRL 



THE HALF-BREED GIRL (continued) 



B 



UT she cannot learn the meaning 
Of the shadows in her soul, 

The lights that break and gather, 
The clouds that part and roll, 



T 



HE reek of rock-built cities, 

Where her fathers dwelt of yore, 

The gleam of loch and shealing, 
The mist on the moor, 



pRAIL traces of kindred kindness, 

Of feud by hill and strand, 
The heritage of an age-long life 
In a legendary land. 

HE wakes in the stifling wigwam, 
Where the air is heavy and wild, 

She fears for something or nothing 
With the heart of a frightened child. 



[39] 



VIA BOREALIS 



THE HALF-BREED GIRL (continued) 

QHE sees the stars turn slowly 
Past the tangle of the poles, 
Through the smoke of the dying embers, 
Like the eyes of dead souls. 



H 



ER heart is shaken with longing 
For the strange, still years, 

For what she knows and knows not, 
For the wells of ancient tears. 



A 



VOICE calls from the rapids, 
Deep, careless and free, 

A voice that is larger than her life 
Or than her death shall be. 



'HE covers her face with her blanket, 
Her fierce soul hates her breath, 

As it cries with a sudden passion 
For life or death. 



[40] 



NIGHT BURIAL IN THE FOREST 



NIGHT BURIAL IN THE FOREST 



L 



AY him down where the fern is thick and fair. 

Fain was he for life, here lies he low: 
With the blood washed clean from his brow 

and his beautiful hair, 
Lay him here in the dell where the orchids 
grow. 



T ET the birch-bark torches roar in the gloom, 
And the trees crowd up in a quiet startled 






ring 
So lone is the land that in this lonely room 
Never before has breathed a human thing. 



/^OVER him well in his canvas shroud, and 

^^ the moss 

Part and heap again on his quiet breast, 
What recks he now of gain, or love, or loss 
Who for love gained rest? 
[41] 



VIA BOREALIS 



NIGHT BURIAL IN THE FOREST (contd.) 

\X 7HILE she who caused it all hides her in- 
solent eyes 

Or braids her hair with the ribbons of lust 
and of lies, 

And he who did the deed fares out like a 
hunted beast 

To lurk where the musk-ox tramples the 
barren ground 

Where the stroke of his coward heart is the 
only sound. 



H 



AUNTING the tamarac shade, 

Hear them up-thronging 
Memories foredoomed 
Of strife and of longing: 
Haggard or bright 
By the tamaracs and birches, 
Where the red torch light 
Trembles and searches, 
The wilderness teems 
With inscrutable eyes 
Of ghosts that are dreams 
Commingled with memories. 

[42] 



NIGHT BURIAL IN THE FOREST 



NIGHT BURIAL IN THE FOREST (contd.) 

T EAVE him here in his secret ferny tomb, 
*~* Withdraw the little light from the ocean 
of gloom, 
He who feared nought will fear aught never, 
Left alone in the forest forever and ever. 

'TpHEN, as we fare on our way to the shore 
"*- Sudden the torches cease to roar: 

For cleaving the darkness remote and still 
Comes a wind with a rushing, harp-like 

thrill, 
The sound of wings hurled and furled and 

unfurled, 
The wings of the Angel who gathers the 
souls from the wastes of the world. 



[43] 



VIA BOREALIS 



T 



T 



DREAM VOYAGEURS 

O ports of balm through isles of musk 

The gentle airs are leading us ; 
To curtained calm and tents of dusk, 
The wood-wild things unheeding us 
Will share their hoards of hardihood, 
Cool dew and roots of fern for food, 
Frail berries full of the sun's blood. 

O planets bland with dales of dream 

A tranquil life is leading us, 
We shall land from the languid stream, 
The musing shades, unheeding us, 
Will share their veils of angelhood, 
Thoughts that are tranced with mystic food, 
Still broodings tinct with a seraph's blood. 



[44] 



SONG 



SONG 

/^REEP into my heart, creep in, creep in, 
^^ Afar from the fret, the toil and the din, 

Where the spring of love forever flows, 

As clear as light and as sweet as the rose ; 

(Creep into my heart), 

Where the dreams never wilt but their tints 
refine, 

Rooted in beautiful thoughts of thine ; 

Where morn falls cool on the soul, like sleep, 

And the nights are tranquil and tranced and 
deep; 

Where the fairest thing of all the fair 

Thou art, who hast somehow crept in there, 

Deep into my heart, 

Deep into my heart. 



[45] 



VIA BOREALIS 



T 



ECSTASY 

HE shore-lark soars to his topmost flight, 
Sings at the height where morning springs, 

What though his voice be lost in the light, 
The light comes dropping from his wings. 



M 



OUNT, my soul, and sing at the height 
Of thy clear flight in the light and the air, 

Heard or unheard in the night in the light 
Sing there ! Sing there ! 



[46] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



MEDITATION AT PERUGIA 



MEDITATION AT PERUGIA 

/ T S HE sunset colours mingle in the sky, 
■* And over all the Umbrian valleys flow ; 

Trevi is touched with wonder, and the 
glow 
Finds high Perugia crimson with renown ; 

Spello is bright ; 
And, ah! St. Francis, thy deep-treasured 
town, 
Enshrined Assisi, fully fronts the light. 

npHIS valley knew thee many a year ago; 
-*" Thy shrine was built by simpleness of 
heart ; 
And from the wound called life thou 
drew'st the smart: 
Unquiet kings came to thee and the sad 
poor — 
Thou gavest them peace ; 
Far as the Sultan and the Iberian shore 

Thy faith and abnegation gave release. 

[49] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



MEDITATION AT PERUGIA (continued) 

P\EEPER our faith, but not so sweet as thine; 
Wider our view, but not so sanely sure ; 
For we are troubled by the witching lure 
Of Science, with her lightning on the mist ; 

Science that clears, 
Yet never quite discloses what she wist, 

And leaves us half with doubts and half 
with fears. 



\T 7"E act her dreams that shadow forth the 
** truth, 

That somehow here the very nerves of 

God 
Thrill the old fires, the rocks, the primal 
sod; 
We throw our speech upon the open air, 

And it is caught 
Far down the world, to sing and murmur 
there ; 
Our common words are with deep won- 
der fraught. 

[50] 



MEDITATION AT PERUGIA 

MEDITATION AT PERUGIA (continued) 

QHALL not the subtle spirit of man contrive 
To charm the tremulous ether of the soul, 
Wherein it breathes? — until, from pole to 
pole, 
Those who are kin shall speak, as face to face, 

From star to star, 
Even from earth to the most secret place, 
Where God and the supreme archangels 
are. 



QHALL we not prove, what thou hast faintly 
^ taught, 

That all the powers of earth and air are one, 
That one deep law persists from mole to 
sun? 
Shall we not search the heart of God and find 

That law empearled, 
Until all things that are in matter and mind 
Throb with the secret that began the 
world ? 



[so 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

MEDITATION AT PERUGIA (continued) 

, \/'EA, we have journeyed since thou trod'st the 
road, 
Yet still we keep the foreappointed quest; 
While the last sunset smoulders in the 
West, 
Still the great faith with the undying hope 

Upsprings and flows, 
While dim Assisi fades on the wide slope 

And the deep Umbrian valleys fill with 
rose. 



[52] 



WILLIAM MACLENNAN'S GRAVE 



AT WILLIAM MACLENNAN'S GRAVE 

TTERE where the cypress tall 
Shadows the stucco wall, 
Bronze and deep, 
Where the chrysanthemums blow, 
And the roses — blood and snow — 
He lies asleep. 



T^LORENCE dreameth afar; 
Memories of foray and war, 
Murmur still; 
The Certosa crowns with a cold 
Cloud of snow and gold 
The olive hill. 



w 



HAT has he now for the streams 
Born sweet and deep with dreams 

From the cedar meres? 
Only the Arno's flow, 
Turbid, and weary, and slow 

With wrath and tears. 

[53] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



WILLIAM MACLENNAN'S GRAVE (contd.) 



w 



HAT has he now for the song 
Of the boatmen, joyous and long, 
Where the rapids shine? 
Only the sound of toil, 
Where the peasants press the soil 
For the oil and wine. 



OPIRIT-FELLOW in sooth 
^ With bold La Salle and Duluth, 
And La Verandrye, — 
Nothing he has but rest, 
Deep in his cypress nest 
With memory. 



H 



EARTS of steel and of fire, 
Why do ye love and aspire, 

When follows 
Death — all your passionate deeds, 
Garnered with rust and with weeds 

In the hollows? 

[54] 



WILLIAM MACLENNAN'S GRAVE 



WILLIAM MACLENNAN'S GRAVE (contd.) 

44 /^ OD that hardened the steel, 
^-* Bid the flame leap and reel, 
Gave us unrest; 
We act in the dusk afar, 
In a star beyond your star, 
His behest. 



"W 



H 



E leave you dreams and names 
Still we are iron and flames, 

Biting and bright; 
Into some virgin world, 
Champions, we are hurled, 

Of venture and fight." 



ERE where the shadows fall, 
From the cypress by the wall, 
Where the roses are — 
Here is a dream and a name, 
There, like a rose of flame, 
Rises — a star. 



[55] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



THE WOOD-SPRING TO THE POET 



D 



AWN-COOL, dew-cool 

Gleams the surface of my pool 

Bird haunted, fern enchanted, 

Where but tempered spirits rule; 

Stars do not trace their mystic lines 

In my confines; 

I take a double night within my breast 

A night of darkened heavens, a night of 
leaves, 

And in the two-fold dark I hear the owl 

Puff at his velvet horn 

And the wolves howl. 

Even daylight comes with a touch of gold 

Not overbold, 

And shows dwarf-cornel and the twin- 
flowers, 

Below the balsam bowers, 

Their tints enamelled in my dew-drop 
shield. 

Too small even for a thirsty fawn 
[56] 



THE WOOD-SPRING TO THE POET 

WOOD-SPRING TO THE POET (contd.) 

To quench upon, 

I hold my crystal at one level 

There where you see the liquid bevel 

Break in silver and go free 

Singing to its destiny. 



/^IVE, Poet, give! 

^-* Thus only shalt thou live. 
Give! for 'tis thy joyous doom 
To charm, to comfort, to illume. 



CPEAK to the maiden and the child 
With accents deep and mild, 
Tell them of the world so wide 
In words of wonder and pure pride, 
Touched with the rapture of surprise 
That dwells in a child angel's eyes, 
Awed with the strangeness of new-birth, 
When the flaming seraph sent 
To lead him into Paradise, 
Calls his name with the mother's voice 
He has just ceased to hear on earth. 

[57] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

WOOD-SPRING TO THE POET (contd.) 

/^ I VE to the youth his heart's content, 
^-* But power with prudence blent, 

Thicken his sinews with love, 

With courage his heart prove, 

Till over his spirit shall roll 

The vast wave of control. 

In the cages and dens of strife, 

Where men draw breath 

Thick with a curse at the dear thing called 
life, 

Give them courage to bear, 

Strength to aspire and dare; 

Give them hopes rooted in stone, 

That the loveliest flowers take on, 

Bind on their brows with a gesture free 

The palm green bays of liberty. 



/^ I VE to the mothers of men 
V*^ The knowledge of joy in pain, 
Give them the sense of reward 
That grew in the breast of the Lord 
On the dawn of the seventh morn; 
[58] 



THE WOOD-SPRING TO THE POET 



WOOD-SPRING TO THE POET (contd.) 

For 'tis they who re-create the world 
Whenever a child is born. 



I VE, Poet, give ! 

Give them songs that charm and fill 
The soul with an alluring pleasure, 
Prelusive to a deeper thrill, 
A richer tone, a fuller measure; 
Like voices, veiled with hidden treasure, 
Of angels on a windy morning, 
That first far off, then all together, 
Come with a glorious clarion calling; 
And when they swoon beneath the spell 
Recapture them to hear the echoes 
Falling — falling — falling. 



T 



O those stoned for the truth 

Give ruth; 
Give manna for the mourner's mouth 
Sovereign as air; 
For his heart's drouth 
A prayer. 

[59] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

WOOD-SPRING TO THE POET (contd.) 

/^ I VE to dead souls that mock at life 
^-•Aweary of their cankered hearts, 

Weary of sleep and weary of strife, 

Weary of markets and of arts, — 

Helve them a song of life, 

Two-edged with joyous life, 

Tempered trusty with life, 

Proud pointed with wild life, 

Plunge it as lightning plunges, 

Stab them to life! 

/^ IVE to those who grieve in secret, 
^-^ Those who bear the sorrows of earth, 
The deep unappeasable longings 
Which beset them with throngings and 

throngings, 
(As, on a windless night, 
Through the fold of a dark mantle furled, 
Gleams on our world, world after unknown 

world) 
Give them peace, 

Wide as the veil that hides God's face, 
The pure plenitude of space, 
[60] 



THE WOOD-SPRING TO THE POET 

WOOD-SPRING TO THE POET (contd.) 

In which our universe is but a glittering 

crease, — 
Give them such peace. 

IVE, Poet, give! 

Thus only shalt thou live: 
Give as we give who are hidden 
In myriad dimples of rock and fern; 
Give as we give unbidden 
To tarn and rillet and burn, 
Where the lake dreams, 
Where the fall is hurled, 
Striving to sweeten 
The oceans of the world. 

QHOULD my song for a moment cease, 
Silence fall in the woodland peace ; 
Should I wilfully check the flow 
Bubbling and dancing up from below; 
Say to my heart be still — be still, 
Let the murmur die with the rill; 
Then should the glittering, grey sea-things 
Sigh as they wallow the under springs ; 
[61] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

WOOD-SPRING TO THE POET (contd.) 

Where the deep brine-pools used to lie 

Deserts vast would stare at the sky, 

And even thy rich heart 

(O Poet, Poet!) 

Even thy rich heart run dry. 



[62] 



THE NOVEMBER PANSY 



THE NOVEMBER PANSY 

HpHIS is not June,— by Autumn's stratagem 
-"■ Thou hast been ambushed in the chilly air ; 
Upon thy fragile crest virginal fair 
The rime has clustered in a diadem ; 

The early frost 
Has nipped thy roots and tried thy tender 
stem, 
Seared thy gold petals, all thy charm is 
lost. 

THYSELF the only sunshine: in obeying 
The law that bids thee blossom in the 

world 
Thy little flag of courage is unfurled; 
Inherent pansy-memories are saying 

That there is sun, 
That there is dew and colour and warmth re- 
paying 
The rain, the -starlight when the light is 
done. 

[63] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

THE NOVEMBER PANSY (continued) 

p^HESE are the gaunt forms of the hollyhocks 
That shower the seeds from out their 

withered purses ; 
Here were the pinks ; there the nasturtium 
nurses 
The last of colour in her gaudy smocks ; 

The ruins yonder 
Show but a vestige of the flaming phlox ; 
The poppies on their faded glory ponder. 



T TERE visited the vagrant humming-bird, 

The nebulous darting green, the ruby- 
throated ; 
The warm fans of the butterfly here 
floated ; 
Those two nests reared the robins, and the 
third 
Was left forlorn 
Muffled in lilacs, whence the perfume stirred 
The tremulous eyelids of the dewy morn. 



[6 4 ] 



THE NOVEMBER PANSY 



THE NOVEMBER PANSY (continued) 

/ TpH Y sisters of the early summer-time 

Were masquers in this carnival of pleas- 
ure; 
Each in her turn unrolled her golden treas- 
ure, 
And thou hast but the ashes of the prime ; 

'Tis life's own malice 
That brings the peasant of a race sublime 
To feed her flock around her ruined palace. 

Y'ET for withstanding thus the autumn's dart 
Some deeper pansy-insight will atone ; 
It comes to souls neglected and alone, 
Something that prodigals in pleasure's mart 

Lose in the whirl ; 
The peasant child will have a purer heart 
Than the vain favourite of the vanished 
earl. 

A ND far above this tragic world of ours 
There is a world of a diviner fashion, 
A mystic world, a world of dreams and pas- 
sion 

[65] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

THE NOVEMBER PANSY (continued) 

That each aspiring thing creates and dowers 

With its own light ; 
Where even the frail spirits of trees and 
flowers 
Pause, and reach out, and pass from height 
to height. 



T TERE will we claim for thee another fief, 

An upland where a glamour haunts the 

meadows, 
Snow peaks arise enrobed in rosy shadows, 
Fairer the under slopes with vine and sheaf 

And shimmering lea ; 
The paradise of a simple old belief, 

That flourished in the Islands of the Sea. 



A SNOW-COOL cistern in the fairy hills 

Shall feed thy roots with moisture clear as 

dew; 
A ferny shield to temper the warm blue 

[66] 



THE NOVEMBER PANSY 

THE NOVEMBER PANSY (continued) 

That heaven is ; a thrush that thrills 

To answer his mate, 
And when above the ferns the shadow fills, 

Fireflies to render darkness consolate. 



H 



ERE muse and brood, moulding thy seed and 
die 

And re-create thy form a thousand fold, 
Mellowing thy petals to more lucent gold, 
Till they expand, tissues of amber sky ; 

Till the full hour, 
And the full light and the fulfilling eye 

Shall find amid the ferns the perfect 
flower. 



[67] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



H 



THE HEIGHT OF LAND 

ERE is the height of land: 

The watershed on either hand 
Goes down to Hudson Bay 
Or Lake Superior ; 
The stars are up, and far away 
The wind sounds in the wood, wearier 
Than the long Ojibway cadence 
In which Potan the Wise 
Declares the ills of life 
And Chees-que-ne-ne makes a mournful 

sound 
Of acquiescence. The fires burn low 
With just sufficient glow 
To light the flakes of ash that play 
At being moths, and flutter away 
To fall in the dark and die as ashes : 
Here there is peace in the lofty air, 
And Something comes by flashes 
Deeper than peace ; — 
The spruces have retired a little space 
[68] 



THE HEIGHT OF LAND 



THE HEIGHT OF LAND (continued) 

And left a field of sky in violet shadow 
With stars like marigolds in a water- 
meadow. 



N 



O W the Indian guides are dead asleep ; 

There is no sound unless the soul can hear 
The gathering of the waters in their sources. 



w 



E have come up through the spreading 

lakes 

From level to level, — 

Pitching our tents sometimes over a revel 
Of roses that nodded all night, 
Dreaming within our dreams, 
To wake at dawn and find that they were 

captured 
With no dew on their leaves; 
Sometimes mid sheaves 
Of braken and dwarf-cornel, and again 
On a wide blue-berry plain 
Brushed with the shimmer of a bluebird's 

wing; 

[69] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

THE HEIGHT OF LAND (continued) 

A rocky islet followed 

With one lone poplar and a single nest 

Of white-throat-sparrows that took no rest 

But sang in dreams or woke to sing, — 

To the last portage and the height of 

land i — : 
Upon one hand 
The lonely north enlaced with lakes and 

streams, 
And the enormous targe of Hudson Bay, 
Glimmering all night 
In the cold arctic light; 
On the other hand 
The crowded southern land 
With all the welter of the lives of men. 
But here is peace, and again 
That Something comes by flashes 
Deeper than peace, — a spell 
Golden and inappellable 
That gives the inarticulate part 
Of our strange being one moment of re- 
lease 

[70] 



THE HEIGHT OF LAND 



THE HEIGHT OF LAND (continued) 

That seems more native than the touch of 

time, 
And we must answer in chime; 
Though yet no man may tell 
The secret of that spell 
Golden and inappellable. 



N 



OW are there sounds walking in the wood, 

And all the spruces shiver and tremble, 
And the stars move a little in their courses. 
The ancient disturber of solitude 
Breathes a pervasive sigh, 
And the soul seems to hear 
The gathering of the waters at their 

sources ; 
Then quiet ensues and pure starlight and 

dark; 
The region-spirit murmurs in meditation, 
The heart replies in exaltation 
And echoes faintly like an inland shell 
Ghost tremors of the spell ; 
Thought reawakens and is linked again 
With all the welter of the lives of men. 

[7i] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

THE HEIGHT OF LAND (continued) 

TTERE on the uplands where the air is clear 
We think of life as of a stormy scene, — 
Of tempest, of revolt and desperate shock; 
And here, where we can think, on the bright 

uplands 
Where the air is clear, we deeply brood on 

life 
Until the tempest parts, and it appears 
As simple as to the shepherd seems his 

flock: 
A Something to be guided by ideals — 
That in themselves are simple and serene — 
Of noble deed to foster noble thought, 
And noble thought to image noble deed, 
Till deed and thought shall interpenetrate, 
Making life lovelier, till we come to doubt 
Whether the perfect beauty that escapes 
Is beauty of deed or thought or some high 

thing 
Mingled of both, a greater boon than either: 
Thus we have seen in the retreating tempest 
The victor-sunlight merge with the ruined 

rain, 

[72] 



THE HEIGHT OF LAND 



THE HEIGHT OF LAND (continued) 

And from the rain and sunlight spring the 
rainbow. 



T 



HE ancient disturber of solitude 

Stirs his ancestral potion in the gloom, 
And the dark wood 
Is stifled with the pungent fume 
Of charred earth burnt to the bone 
That takes the place of air. 
Then sudden I remember when and where, — 
The last weird lakelet foul with weedy 

growths 
And slimy viscid things the spirit loathes, 
Skin of vile water over viler mud 
Where the paddle stirred unutterable 

stenches, 
And the canoes seemed heavy with fear, 
Not to be urged toward the fatal shore 
Where a bush fire, smouldering, with sud- 
den roar 
Leaped on a cedar and smothered it with 

light 
And terror. It had left the portage-height 
[73] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

THE HEIGHT OF LAND (continued) 

A tangle of slanted spruces burned to the 

roots, 
Covered still with patches of bright fire 
Smoking with incense of the fragrant resin 
That even then began to thin and lessen 
Into the gloom and glimmer of ruin. 

'nr^IS overpast. How strange the stars have 
A grown ; 

The presage of extinction glows on their 

crests 
And they are beautied with impermanence ; 
They shall be after the race of men 
And mourn for them who snared their fiery 

pinions, 
Entangled in the meshes of bright words. 



A LEMMING stirs the fern and in the mosses 
Eft-minded things feel the air change, and 
dawn 
Tolls out from the dark belfries of the 
spruces. 

[74] 



THE HEIGHT OF LAND 



THE HEIGHT OF LAND (continued) 

How often in the autumn of the world 
Shall the crystal shrine of dawning be re- 
built 
With deeper meaning ! Shall the poet then, 
Wrapped in his mantle on the height of land, 
Brood on the welter of the lives of men 
And dream of his ideal hope and promise 
In the blush sunrise? Shall he base his 

flight 
Upon a more compelling law than Love 
As Life's atonement; shall the vision 
Of noble deed and noble thought immingled 
Seem as uncouth to him as the pictograph 
Scratched on the cave side by the cave- 
dweller 
To us of the Christ-time? Shall he stand 
With deeper joy, with more complex emo- 
tion, 
In closer commune with divinity, 
With the deep fathomed, with the firma- 
ment charted, 
With life as simple as a sheep-boy's song, 
What lies beyond a romaunt that was read 

[75] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

THE HEIGHT OF LAND (continued) 

Once on a morn of storm and laid aside 
Memorious with strange immortal memo- 
ries? 
Or shall he see the sunrise as I see it 
In shoals of misty fire the deluge-light 
Dashes upon and whelms with purer radi- 
ance, 
And feel the lulled earth, older in pulse and 

motion, 
Turn the rich lands and the inundant oceans 
To the flushed color, and hear as now I hear 
The thrill of life beat up the planet's margin 
And break in the clear susurrus of deep joy 
That echoes and reechoes in my being? 
O Life is intuition the measure of knowl- 
edge 
And do I stand with heart entranced and 

burning 
At the zenith of our wisdom when I feel 
The long light flow, the long wind pause, 

the deep 
Influx of spirit, of which no man may tell 
The Secret, golden and inappellable ? 
[76] 



NEW YEAR'S NIGHT, 1916 



T 



NEW YEAR'S NIGHT, 1916 

HE Earth moans in her sleep 

Like an old mother 
Whose sons have gone to the war, 
Who weeps silently in her heart 
Till dreams comfort her. 



T 



HE Earth tosses 

As if she would shake off humanity, 
A burden too heavy to be borne, 
And free of the pest of intolerable men, 
Spin with woods and waters 
Joyously in the clear heavens 
In the beautiful cool rains, 
Bearing gladly the dumb animals, 
And sleep when the time comes 
Glistening in the remains of sunlight 
With marmoreal innocency. 



[77] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



NEW YEAR'S NIGHT, 1916 (continued) 



B 



E comforted, old mother, 

Whose sons have gone to the war; 
And be assured, O Earth, 
Of your burden of passionate men, 
For without them who would dream the 

dreams 
That encompass you with glory, 
Who would gather your youth 
And store it in the jar of remembrance, 
Who would comfort your old heart 
With tales told of the heroes, 
Who would cover your face with the cere- 
cloth 
All rustling with stars, 
And mourn in the ashes of sunlight, 
Mourn your marmoreal innocency? 



[78] 



FRAGMENT OF AN ODE 



FRAGMENT OF AN ODE TO 
CANADA 

THIS is the land! 
It lies outstretched a vision of delight, 
Bent like a shield between the silver seas 
It flashes back the hauteur of the sun ; 
Yet teems with humblest beauties, still a part 
Of its Titanic and ebullient heart. 



T AND of the glacial, lonely mountain ranges, 
Where nothing haps save vast iEonian 

changes, 
The slow moraine, the avalanche's wings, 
Summer and Sun, — the elemental things, 
Pulses of Awe, — Winter and Night and the 

lightnings. 
Land of the pines that rear their dusky spars 
A ready midnight for the earliest stars. 
The land of rivers, rivulets, and rills, 
Straining incessant everyway to the sea, 

[79] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

FRAGMENT OF AN ODE (continued) 

With their white thunder harnessed in the 
mills, 

Turning one wealth to another wealth per- 
petually ; 

Spinning the lightning with dynamic spindles, 

Till some far city dowered with fire en- 
kindles. 



^T^HE land of fruit, fine-flavoured with the 
* frost, 

Land of the cattle, the deep-chested host, 
The happy-souled, that contemplate the 

hours, 
Their dew-laps buried in the grass and flow- 
ers. 
And, O ! the myriad-miracle of the grain 
Cresting the hill, brimming the level plain, 
The miracle of the flower and milk and ker- 
nel, 
Nurtured by sun-fire and frost-fire supernal, 
Until the farmer turns it in his hand, 
The million-millioned miracle of the land. 
[80] 



FRAGMENT OF AN ODE 



FRAGMENT OF AN ODE (continued) 

A ND yet with ail these pastoral and heroic 
graces, 

Our simplest flowers wear the loveliest faces ; 

The sparrows are our most enraptured sing- 
ers, 

And round their songs the fondest memory 
lingers ; 

Our forests tower and tremble, star-en- 
chanted, 

Their roots are by the timid spirits haunted 

Of hermit thrushes, — tranced is the air, 

Ever in doubt when they shall sing or where ; 

The mountains may with ice and avalanche 
wrestle, 

Far down their rugged steeps dimple and 
nestle 

The still, translucent, turquoise-hearted 
tarns. 



[81] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

FRAGMENT OF AN ODE (continued) 

AND Thou, O Power, that 'stablishest the Na- 
*** tion, 

Give wisdom in the midst of our elation ; 
Who are so free that we forget we are — 
That freedom brings the deepest obligation: 
Grant us this presage for a guiding star, 
To lead the van of Peace, not with a craven 

spirit, 
But with the consciousness that we inherit 
What built the Empire out of blood and fire, 
And can smite, too, in passion and with ire. 
Purge us of Pride, who are so quick in vaunt- 
ing 
Thy gift, this land, that is in nothing want- 
ing; 
Give Mind to match the glory of the gift, 
Give great Ideals to bridge the sordid rift 
Between our heritage and our use of it. 



[82] 



FRAGMENT OF AN ODE 



FRAGMENT OF AN ODE (continued) 

npHEN in some day of terror for the world, 
"*• When all the flags of the Furies are un- 
furled, 

When Truth and Justice, wildered and un- 
knit, 

Shall turn for help to this young, radiant 
land, 

We shall be quick to see and understand : 

What shall we answer in that stricken hour? 

Shall the deep thought be pregnant then with 
power? 

Shall the few words spring swift and grave 
and clear? 

Use well the present moment. They shall 
hear. 

August, 191 1. 



[83] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



H 



FANTASIA 

ERE in Samarcand they offer emeralds, 
Pure as frozen drops of sea-water, 

Rubies, pale as dew-ponds stained with 
slaughter, 

Where the fairies fought for a king's daugh- 
ter 

In the elfin upland. 

Here they sell you jade and calcedony, 

And the matrix of the turquoise, 

Spheres of onyx held in eagles' claws, 

But they keep the gems as far asunder 

From the dull stones as the lightning from 
the thunder ; 

They can never come together 

On the mats of Turkish leather 

In the booths of Samarcand. 



[84] 



FANTASIA 



FANTASIA (continued) 

"LI ERE they sell you balls of nard and honey, 
And squat jars of clarid butter, 
And the cheese from Kurdistan. 
When you offer Frankish money, 
Then they scowl and curse and mutter, 
Deep in Kurdish or Persan 
For they want your heart out and my hand 
In the booths of Samarcand. 



T 



HEY would sell your heart's blood separate, 
In a jar with a gold brim, 

With a text of burning hatred 

Coiled around the rim ; 

They would sell my hand upon a beam of 
teak wood, 

In the other scale a feather curled ; 

They would sell your heart upon a silver bal- 
ance 

Weighed against the world. 

But your heart could never touch my hand, 

They could never come together 

On the mats of Turkish leather 

In the booths of Samarcand. 

[85] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



THE LOVER TO HIS LASS 

/^ROWN her with stars, this angel of our 
^-"^ planet, 

Cover her with morning, this thing of 
pure delight, 
Mantle her with midnight till a mortal can- 
not 
See her for the garments of the light and 
the night. 



T TOW far I wandered, worlds away and far 
away, 
Heard a voice but knew it not in the clear 
cold, 
Many a wide circle and many a wan star 
away, 
Dwelling in the chambers where the 
worlds were growing old. 



[86] 



THE LOVER TO HIS LASS 

THE LOVER TO HIS LASS (continued) 

CAW them growing old and heard them fall- 
ing 
Like ripe fruit when a tree is in the wind; 
Saw the seraphs gather them, their clarion 
voices calling 
In rounds of cheering labour till the or- 
chard floor was thinned. 



CAW a whole universe turn to its setting, 
Old and cold and weary, gray and cold as 
death, 
But before mine eyes were veiled in for- 
getting, 
Something always caught my soul and held 
its breath. 



/^ AUGHT it up and held it, now I know the 
^"^ reason ; 

Governed it and soothed it, now I know 
why; 



[87] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

THE LOVER TO HIS LASS (continued) 

Nurtured it and trained it and kept it for the 
season 
When new worlds should blossom in the 
springtime sky. 



T TOW have they blossomed, see the sky is like 
a garden ! 
Ah ! how fresh the worlds look hanging on 
the slope! 
Pluck one and wear it, Love, and ask the 
Gardener's pardon, 
Pluck out the Pleiads like a spray of helio- 
trope. 



QEE Aldebaran like a red rose clamber, 

See brave Betelgeux pranked with poppy 
light; 
This young earth must float in floods of 
amber 
Glowing with a crocus flame in the dells 
of night. 

[88] 



THE LOVER TO HIS LASS 

THE LOVER TO HIS LASS (continued) 

/^\ YOU cannot cheat the soul of an inborn 
^^^ ambition, 

*Tis a naked viewless thing living in its 
thought, 
But it mounts through errors and by valleys 
of contrition 
Till it conquers destiny and finds the thing 
it sought. 



PROWN her with stars, this angel of our 
^^ planet, 

Cover her with morning, this thing of pure 
delight, 
Mantle her with midnight till a mortal can- 
not 
See her for the garments of the light and 
the night. 



[89] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



A 



B 



THE GHOST'S STORY 

LL my life long I heard the step 
Of some one I would know, 

Break softly in upon my days 
And lightly come and go. 

FOOT so brisk I said must bear 
L A heart that's clean and clear; 
If that companion blithe would come, 
I should be happy here. 

UT though I waited long and well, 

He never came at all, 
I grew aweary of the void, 

Even of the light foot-fall. 



s ROM loneliness to loneliness 
I felt my spirit grope — 

At last I knew the uttermost, 
The loneliness of hope. 
[90] 



THE GHOST'S STORY 



THE GHOST'S STORY (continued) 

A ND just upon the border land, 
Where flesh and spirit part, 
I knew the secret foot-fall was 
The beating of my heart. 



[9i] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



NIGHT 

^T^HE night is old, and all the world 
A Is wearied out with strife ; 

A long gray mist lies heavy and wan 
Above the house of life. 



k OUR stars burn up and are unquelled 
By the low, shrunken moon; 

Her spirit draws her down and down — 
She shall be buried soon. 



T 



HERE is a sound that is no sound, 
Yet fine it falls and clear, 

The whisper of the spinning earth 
To the tranced atmosphere. 



N odour lives where once was air, 

A strange, unearthly scent, 
From the burning of the four great stars 

Within the firmament. 
[92] 



NIGHT 



NIGHT (continued) 



T 



HE universe, deathless and old, 
Breathes, yet is void of breath : 

As still as death that seems to move 
And yet is still as death. 



[93] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



THE APPARITION 

/^ ENTLE angel with your mantle, 
^ All of tender green, 

I was yearning for a vision 
Of the life unseen. 



TX 7HEN you hovered in the sunset, 
* * Just as rain was done ; 

Where the dropping from the poplars 
Seemed like rain begun. 



'T'^HERE you gathered forming slowly, 
-*- Rounding into view: 

All your vesture glowed like verdure 
When the sap is new. 

npHEN you mutely gave your warning 
A And I felt the stress 

Of its passion and its presage 
And its utterness. 

[94] 



THE APPARITION 



THE APPARITION (continued) 

'T^HERE you swayed one tranquil moment, 
A Mystically fair, 

Then you were not of the sunset, 
Were not in the air. 



[95] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



T 



N 



AT SEA 

HERE are emerald pools in the sea, 
And wing-like flashes of light ; 

The sea is bound with the heavens 
In a large delight. 

IGHT comes out of the east 
And rushes down on the sun ; 

The emerald pools and the light pools 
Are darkened and done. 



o 



UR boat dips and cleaves onward, 
Careless of night or of light, 

Following the line of her compass 
By her engines' might. 



T 



HROUGH the desert of air and of water ; 

Like the lonely soul of man, 
Following her fate to the ending, 

Unaware of the hidden plan. 
[96] 



AT SEA 



AT SEA (continued) 

CURE only of battle and longing, 
Of the pain and the quest, 
And beyond in the darkness somewhere 
Sure of her rest. 



[97] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



MADONNA WITH TWO ANGELS 

T TNDER the sky without a stain 

The long, ripe, rippling of the grain; 
Light, broadcast from the golden oats 
Over the blackberry fences floats. 
Madonna sits in a cedar chair 
Tranquillized by the warm, still air ; 
One of the angels asleep on her knee 
Under the shade of an apple tree. 
The other angel holds a doll, 
Covered warm in a tiny shawl; 
The toy is supposed to be fast asleep 
As the sister angel : in dimples deep 
The grave, sweet charm on the baby face 
Repeats the look of maturer grace 
That hovers about Madonna's eyes, 
One of the heavenly mysteries 
From far ethereal latitudes 
Where neither doubt nor trouble intrudes. 



[98] 



MADONNA WITH TWO ANGELS 

MADONNA WITH TWO ANGELS (contd.) 

Ponder here in the orchard nest 
On the truth of life made manifest : 
The struggle and effort was all to prove 
That the best of the world is home and love. 



[99] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



MID-AUGUST 

'ROM the upland hidden, 
Where the hill is sunny 
Tawny like pure honey 
In the August heat, 

Memories float unbidden 
Where the thicket serries 
Fragrant with ripe berries 
And the milk-weed sweet. 



T IKE a prayer-mat holy 

Are the patterned mosses 
Which the twin-flower crosses 
With her flowerless vine ; 
In fragile melancholy 

The pallid ghost flowers hover 
As if to guard and cover 
The shadow of a shrine. 



[ ioo ] 



MID -AUGUST 



MID-AUGUST (continued) 



w 



o 



I 



HERE the pine-linnet lingered 
The pale water searches, 
The roots of gleaming birches 
Draw silver from the lake ; 

The ripples, liquid-fingered, 
Plucking the root-layers, 
Fairy like lute players 
Lulling music make. 

TO lie here brooding 
Where the pine-tree column 
Rises dark and solemn 
To the airy lair, 
Where, the day eluding, 

Night is couched dream laden, 
Like a deep witch-maiden 
Hidden in her hair. 



N filmy evanescence 

Wraithlike scents assemble, 
Then dissolve and tremble 
A little until they die; 

[IOI] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

MID-AUGUST (continued) 

Spirits of the florescence 

Where the bees searched and tarried 
Till the blossoms all were married 
In the days before July. 

T IGHT has lost its splendour, 
Light refined and sifted, 
Cool light and dream drifted 
Ventures even where, 
(Seeping silver tender) 
In the dim recesses, 
Trembling mid her tresses, 
Hides the maiden hair. 



/COVERED with the shy-light, 
^^ Filling in the hushes, 

Slide the tawny thrushes 
Calling to their broods, 
Hoarding till the twilight 

The song that made for noon-days 
Of the amorous June days 
Preludes and interludes. 
[102] 



MID- AUGUST 



MID-AUGUST (continued) 

/ T~" V HE joy that I am feeling 
-■* Is there something in it 

Unlike the warble the linnet 
Phrases and intones? 
Or is a like thought stealing 
With a rapture fine, free 
Through the happy pine tree 
Ripening her cones? 

TN some high existence 
In another planet 
Where their poets cannot 
Know our birds and flowers, 
Does the same persistence 
Give the dreams they issue 
Something like the tissue 
Of these dreams of ours? 



o 



TO lie athinking — 
Moods and whims! I fancy 
Only necromancy 
Could the web unroll, 

[!03] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

MID-AUGUST (continued) 

Only somehow linking 

Beauties that meet and mingle 

In this quiet dingle 

With the beauty of the whole. 



[104] 



MIST AND FROST 



v 



MIST AND FROST 

EIL-LIKE and beautiful 
Gathered the dutiful 

Mist in the night, 
True to the messaging, 
Dreamful and presaging 

Vapour and light. 



GHOSTLY and chill it is, 
Pallid and still it is, 
Sudden uprist; 
What is there tragical, 
Moving or magical, 
Hid in the mist? 

]% yTILLIONS of essences, 
1" Fairy-like presences 
Formless as yet; 
Light-riven spangles, 
Crystalline tangles 
Floating unset. 

[105] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

MIST AND FROST (continued) 

T^ROST will come shepherding 
Nowise enjeoparding 
Frondage or flower; 
Just a degree of it, 
Nought can we see of it 
Only its power. 



T^ARTH like a Swimmer 

Plunged into the dimmer 
Wave of the night, 
Now is uprisen, 
An Elysian vision 

Of spray and of light. 



T 



IS the intangible 
Delicate frangible 

Secret of mist, 
Breathing may banish it, 
Thought may evanish it,- 

Ponder and whist! 

[106] 



MIST AND FROST 



MIST AND FROST (continued) 

PASSIONLESS purity, 
Calmness in surety 
Dwells everywhere, 
A winnowed whiteness, 
A lunar lightness 

Glows in the air. 



B 



UT in the heart of it 
Every least part of it 
Blooms with the charm, 
Star-shape and frondage 
Broken from bondage 
Forged into form. 



/CRYSTALS encrusted, 
^- > ^ Diamonds dusted 
Line everything, 
Tiny the stencillings 
Are as the pencillings 
On a moth's wing. 



[107] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

MIST AND FROST (continued) 

A ND O, what a wonder! 
No farther asunder 
Than atoms are laid, 
The arches and angles 
Of star-froth and spangles 
Cast their own shade. 



o 



UT from the chalices, 
The pigmy palaces 
Where the tint hides, 
Opal and sapphire 
Half -pearl and half-fire 
The colour slides ; 



T 



ILL the frail miracle 
Rapturous lyrical 

Flushes and glows 
With a wraith of florescence 
That tempers or lessens 

The light of the snows. 

[108] 



MIST AND FROST 



MIST AND FROST (continued) 

TTELD all aquiver, — 
* •** But now with a shiver 
The power of the sun 
Dissolves the laces 
Of the tender mazes, 
All is undone. 



B 



UT the old Earth brooding, 
All wisdom including, 
Affirms and assures 
That above the material, 
Triumphal imperial 
Beauty endures. 



[ 109] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



THE BEGGAR AND THE ANGEL 

A N angel burdened with self-pity 

Came out of heaven to a modern city. 



He saw a beggar on the street, 
Where the tides of traffic meet. 

A pair of brass-bound hickory pegs 
Brought him his pence instead of legs. 

A murky dog by him did lie, 
Poodle, in part, his ancestry. 

The angel stood and thought upon 
This poodle-haunted beggar man. 

" My life is grown a bore," said he, 
" One long round of sciamachy ; 

I think IT! do a little good, 
By way of change from angelhood." 
[no] 



THE BEGGAR AND THE ANGEL 



THE BEGGAR AND THE ANGEL (contd.) 

He drew near to the beggar grim, 
And gravely thus accosted him: 



" How would you like, my friend, to fly 
All day through the translucent sky; 

To knock at the door of the red leaven, 
And even to enter the orthodox heaven? 

If you would care to know this joy, 
I will surrender my employ, 

And take your ills, collect your pelf, 
An humble beggar like yourself. 

For ages you these joys may know, 
While I shall suffer here below; 

And in the end we both may gain 
Access of pleasure from my pain." 

The stationary vagrant said, 
"I do not mind, so go ahead." 

cm] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

THE BEGGAR AND THE ANGEL (contd.) 

The angel told the heavenly charm, 
He felt a wing on either arm ; 

" Good-day," he said, " this floating's queer 
If I should want to change next year — ?" 

" Pull out that feather! " the angel said, 
" The one half black and the other half red." 

The cripple cried, " Before you're through 
You may get fagged, and if you do, — " 

The angel superciliously — 

" My transformed friend, don't think of me. 

I shall be happy day and night, 
In doing what I think is right." 

" So so," the feathered beggar said, 
" Good-bye, I am just overhead." 



[112] 



THE BEGGAR AND THE ANGEL 



THE BEGGAR AND THE ANGEL (contd.) 

^T^HE angel when he grasped the dish, 
A Began to criticize his wish. 



The seat was hard as granite rocks, 
His real legs were in the box. 

His knees were cramped, his shins were sore, 
The lying pegs stuck out before. 

In vain he clinked the dish and whined. 
The passers-by seemed deaf and blind. 

As pious looking as Saint Denis, 
An urchin stole his catch-penny. 

And even the beggar's drab-fleeced poodle 
Began to know him for a noodle. 

" It has an uncelestial scent, 
The clothing of this mendicant ; " 

He cried, " That trickling down my spine 
Is anything but hyaline. 

[us] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



THE BEGGAR AND THE ANGEL (contd.) 

This day is like a thousand years : 
I'd give an age of sighs and tears 



To see with his confectioned grin 
One cherub sitting on his chin. 

That cripple was by far too sly — 
I wish he'd tumble from the sky, 

That things might be as they were before ; 
I really cannot stand much more ! " 



nr^HE beggar in the angel's guise, 
A Rose far above the smoky skies. 



But being a beggar, never saw 
The charm of the compelling law 

That turned the swinging universe 
'Twas gloomy as an empty purse. 

[114] 



THE BEGGAR AND THE ANGEL 

THE BEGGAR AND THE ANGEL (contd.) 

Often with heaven in his head, 
He blundered on a planet dead. 

And when with an immortal fuss, 
He singed his wings at Sirius. 

He plucked the feather with his teeth, 
The charm was potent and beneath, 

He saw the turmoil of the way 
Grown wilder at the close of day, 

With the sad poodle, can in hand, 
The angel still at the old stand. 

" My friend," said the angel, hemming and 

humming, 
" Truly I thought you were never coming." 

" That's an unhandsome thing to say, 
Seeing I've only been gone a day. 

But there's nothing in all your brazen sky 
To match the cock of that poodle's eye." 
[ii5] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



THE BEGGAR AND THE ANGEL (contd.) 

" Take your dish and give me my wings, 
'Tis but a fair exchange of things." 



*TpHE beggar felt his garment's rot, 
* The horn ridge of each callous spot ; 



He clinked his can and was content ; 
His poverty was permanent. 



[116] 



IMPROVISATION ON AN OLD SONG 



IMPROVISATION ON AN OLD SONG 

(The refrain is quoted by Edward Fitzgerald in 
one of his letters) 



/^ROWING, growing, all the glory going; 
^* Flashing out of fire and light, burning to a 
husk, 
All the world's a-dying and failing in the 
dusk — 
Growing, growing, all the glory going. 



Rust is on the door-latch, ashes at the root, 

Dry rot in the ridge-pole, canker in the fruit ; 

Growing, growing, all the glory going. 

Plot, ye subtle statesmen, — a trace of melted 

wax; 
Bind, ye haughty prelates, — a thread of 

ravelled flax; 
Growing, growing, all the glory going. 

[ii7] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

IMPROVISATION ON OLD SONG (contd.) 

March, ye mighty captains, — an eddy in the 

dust ; 
Rave, ye furious lovers, — a stain of crimson 

rust; 
Growing, growing, all the glory going. 

Pictures, poems, music — their essential 

soul, 
Idle as dry roses in a silver bowl ; 

Growing, growing, all the glory going. 

London is a hearsay, Paris but a myth, 
Rome a wand of sweet-flag withered to the 
pith; 
Growing, growing, all the glory going. 

Palsy shakes the planets, frost has chilled the 

sun, 
In a crushing silence the All is dead and 

done. 
Growing, growing, all the glory going. 



[118] 



IMPROVISATION ON AN OLD SONG 

IMPROVISATION ON OLD SONG (contd.) 

II 

/"^OING, going, all the glory growing, 
^-* See it stir and flutter ; that is singing, hark ! 
Singing in the caverns of the primal dark. 
Going, going, all the glory growing. 

What is in the making, what immortal plan 
Draws to its unfolding? 'Tis the Soul of 
man. 
Going, going, all the glory growing. 

See it mount and hover, singing as it goes, 
Battling with the darkness, nourished by its 
woes; 
Going, going, all the glory growing. 

The bale-fires of midnight glaring in its eyes, 
Past the phantom shadows see it rush and 
rise; 
Going, going, all the glory growing. 



["9] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

IMPROVISATION ON OLD SONG (contd.) 

The supernal morning on its dewy wings, 
Soaring and scorning the lust of earthy 
things ; 
Going, going, all the glory growing. 

The beatific noontide on its eager breast 
Springing and singing to its halcyon rest; 
Going, going, all the glory growing. 

In its starry vesture not a vestige of the sod, 
Winging still and singing to the heart of 
God. 
Going, going, all the glory growing. 



[120] 



O TURN ONCE MORE 



o 



O TURN ONCE MORE 

TURN once more ! 
The meadows where we mused and strayed 
together 
Abound and glow yet with the ruby sorrel ; 
'Twas there the bluebirds fought and played 

together, 
Their quarrel was a flying bluebird-quarrel ; 
Their nest is firm still in the burnished 

cherry, 
They will come back there some day and be 
merry ; 
O turn once more. 



o 



TURN once more ! 
The spring we lingered at is ever steeping 
The long, cool grasses where the violets hide, 
Where you awoke the flower-heads from 
their sleeping 

[121] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

O TURN ONCE MORE (continued) 

And plucked them, proud in their inviolate 

pride ; 
You left the roots, the roots will flower again, 
O turn once more and pluck the flower again ; 
O turn once more. 



f\ TURN once more ! 

^^^ We were the first to find the fairy places 
Where the tall lady-slippers scarf'd and 

snooded, 
Painted their lovely thoughts upon their 

faces, 
And then, bewitched by their own beauty, 

brooded ; 
This will recur in some enchanted fashion ; 
Time will repeat his miracles of passion; 
O turn once more. 



f\ TURN once more ! 

^^^ What heart is worth the longing for, the 
winning, 
That is not moved by currents of surprise ; 
[122] 



O TURN ONCE MORE 



O TURN ONCE MORE (continued) 

Who never breaks the silken thread in spin- 
ning, 

Shows a bare spindle when the daylight dies; 

The constant blood will yet flow full and 
tender ; 

The thread will mended be though gossamer- 
slender ; 
O turn once more. 



[123] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



T 



AT THE GILL-NETS 

UG at the net, 

Haul at the net, 
Strip off the quivering fish ; 
Hid in the mist 
The winds whist, 
Is like my heart's wish. 



w 



H 



HAT is your wish, 

Your heart's wish? 
Is it for home on the hills? 
Strip off the fish, 
The silver fish, 
Caught by their rosy gills. 

OW can I know, 

I love you so, 
Each little thought I get 
Is held so, 
It dies you know, 
Caught in your heart's net. 
[124] 



AT THE GI LL-NETS 



AT THE GILL-NETS (continued) 

/ TpUG at your net, 

Your heart's net, 
Strip off my silver fancies ; 
Keep them in rhyme, 
For a dull time, 
Fragile as frost pansies. 



[125] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



i 



A LOVE SONG 

GAVE her a rose in early June, 
Fed with the sun and the dew, 
Each petal I said is a note in the tune, 
The rose is the whole tune through and 

through, 
The tune is the whole red-hearted rose, 
Flush and form, honey and hue, 
Lull with the cadence and throb to the close, 
I love you, I love you, I love you. 



QHE gave me a rose in early June, 
Fed with the sun and the dew, 
Each petal she said is a mount in the moon, 
The rose is the whole moon through and 

through, 
The moon is the whole pale-hearted rose, 
Round and radiance, burnish and blue, 
Break in the flood-tide that murmurs and 

flows, 
I love you, I love you, I love you. 
[126] 



A LOVE SONG 



A LOVE SONG (continued) 

'~p s HIS is our love in early June, 
•* Fed with the sun and the dew, 
Moonlight and roses hid in a tune, 
The roses are music through and through, 
The moonlight falls in the breath of the rose, 
Light and cadence, honey and hue, 
Mingle, and murmur, and flow to the close, 
I love you, I love you, I love you. 



[127] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



w 



THREE SONGS 



HERE love is life 
The roses blow, 
Though winds be rude 
And cold the snow, 
The roses climb 
Serenely slow, 
They nod in rhyme 
We know — we know 
Where love is life 
The roses blow. 



w 



HERE life is love 
The roses blow, 
Though care be quick 
And sorrows grow, 
Their roots are twined 
With rose-roots so 

[128] 



THREE SONGS 



THREE SONGS (continued) 

That rosebuds find 
A way to show 
Where life is love 
The roses blow. 



N 



N 



II 

OTHING came here but sunlight, 

Nothing fell here but rain, 
Nothing blew but the mellow wind, 

Here are the flowers again! 

O one came here but you, dear, 

You with your magic train 
Of brightness and laughter and lightness, 

Here is my joy again ! 



i 



III 

HAVE songs of dancing pleasure, 

I have songs of happy heart, 
Songs are mine that pulse in measure 
To the throbbing of the mart. 
[129] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



THREE SONGS (continued) 

CONGS are mine of magic seeming, 
^ In a land of love forlorn, 

Where the joys are had for dreaming, 
At a summons from the horn. 



B 



UT my sad songs come unbidden, 

Rising with a wilder zest, 
From the bitter pool that's hidden, 

T3 ee p — deep — deep within my breast. 



[130] 



THE SAILOR'S SWEETHEART 



o 



THE SAILOR'S SWEETHEART 

IF love were had for asking, 
In the markets of the town, 
Hardly a lass would think to wear 

A fine silken gown : 
But love is had by grieving 
By choosing and by leaving, 
And there's no one now to ask me 
If heavy lies my heart. 



o 



IF love were had for a deep wish 
In the deadness of the night, 

There'd be a truce to longing 
Between the dusk and the light: 

But love is had for sighing, 

For living and for dying, 

And there's no one now to ask me 

If heavy lies my heart. 



[131] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

THE SAILOR'S SWEETHEART (continued) 

f\ IF love were had for taking 
^^ Like honey from the hive, 

The bees that made the tender stuff 
Could hardly keep alive : 

But love it is a wounded thing, 

A tremor and a smart, 

And there's no one left to kiss me now 

Over my heavy heart. 



[132] 



FEUILLES D'AUTOMNE 



FEUILLES D'AUTOMNE 

/^ ATHER the leaves from the forest 
^-^ And blow them over the world, 
The wind of winter follows 
The wind of autumn furled. 



o 



Y 



B 



NLY the beech tree cherishes 

A leaf or two for ruth, 
Their stems too tough for the tempest, 

Like thoughts of love and of youth. 

OU may sit by the fire and ponder 

While darkness veils the pane, 
And fear that your memories are rushing 
away 

In the wind and the rain. 

UT you'll find them in the quiet 
When the clouds race with the moon, 

Making the tender silver sound 
Of a beech in the month of June. 
[i33] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



FEUILLES D'AUTOMNE (continued) 

T?OR you cannot rob the memory 
Of the leaves it loves the best ; 
The wind of time may harry them, 
It rushes away with the rest. 



[i34] 



TO THE HEROIC SOUL 



TO THE HEROIC SOUL 



^VJURTURE thyself, O Soul, from the clear 

-*■ ^ spring 

That wells beneath the secret inner shrine ; 
Commune with its deep murmur,— 'tis di- 
vine; 
Be faithful to the ebb and flow that bring 
The outer tide of Spirit to trouble and swing 
The inlet of thy being. Learn to know 
These powers, and life with all its venom 

and show 
Shall have no force to dazzle thee or sting : 



ND when Grief comes thou shalt have suf- 
fered more 

Than all the deepest woes of all the world ; 

Joy, dancing in, shall find thee nourished 
with mirth ; 

Wisdom shall find her Master at thy door; 

[135] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

TO THE HEROIC SOUL (continued) 

And Love shall find thee crowned with love 

empearled ; 
And death shall touch thee not but a new 

birth. 

II 

TVE strong, O warring soul! For very sooth 
** Kings are but wraiths, republics fade like 

rain, 
Peoples are reaped and garnered as the grain, 
And that alone prevails which is the truth: 
Be strong when all the days of life bear ruth 
And fury, and are hot with toil and strain: 
Hold thy large faith and quell thy mighty 

pain: 
Dream the great dream that buoys thine age 

with youth. 



nr^HOU art an eagle mewed in a sea-stopped 
A cave : 

He, poised in darkness with victorious 
wings, 

[136] 



TO THE HEROIC SOUL 



TO THE HEROIC SOUL (continued) 

Keeps night between the granite and the 

sea, 
Until the tide has drawn the warder-wave: 
Then from the portal where the ripple 

rings, 
He bursts into the boundless morning, — 

free! 



[i37] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



T 



RETROSPECT 

HIS is the mockery of the moving years; 
Youth's colour dies, the fervid morning 
glow 
Is gone from off the foreland ; slow, slow, 
Even slower than the fount of human tears 
To empty, the consuming shadow nears 
That Time is casting on the worldly show 
Of pomp and glory. But falter not ; — be- 
low 
That thought is based a deeper thought 
that cheers. 



/"^LEAN thou thy past; that will alone inure 
^-* To catch thy heart up from a dark dis- 
tress ; 
It were enough to find one deed mature, 
Deep-rooted, mighty 'mid the toil and 

press ; 
To save one memory of the sweet and pure, 
From out life's failure and its bitterness. 

[138] 



FROST MAGIC 



FROST MAGIC 

I 

VTOW, in the moonrise, from a wintry sky, 

The frost has come to charm with elfin 

might 
This quiet room; to draw with symbols 

bright 
Faces and forms in fairest charactery 
Upon the casement; all the thoughts that 

lie 
Deep hidden in my heart's core he would 

tell, 
How the red shoots of fancy strike and 

swell, 
How they are watered, what soil nourished 

by. " 

\ T 7ITH eerie power he piles his atomies, 
" Incrusted gems, star-glances overborne 
With lids of sleep pulled from the moth's 
bright eyes, 

[i39] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

FROST MAGIC (continued) 

And forests of frail ferns, blanched and 

forlorn, 
Where Oberon of unimagined size 
Might in the silver silence wind his horn. 



II 

TX 71TH these alone he draws in magic lines, 
Faces that people dreams, and chiefly 

one 
Happy and brilliant as the northern sun, 
And by its darling side there gleams and 

shines 
One of God's children with the laughing 

signs 
Of dimples, and glad accents, and sweet 

cries, 
That angels are and heaven's memories: 
The wizard thus my soul's estate divines; 



[140] 



FROST MAGIC 



FROST MAGIC (continued) 

ALL it holds dear he sets alone apart, 
Etches the past in likeness of dim groves 
Silvered in quiet rime and with rare art, 
In crystal spoils and fairy treasure-troves, 
He draws the picture of the happy heart, 
By those who love it most, whom most it 
loves. 



[141] 



I 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 



IN SNOW-TIME 

HAVE seen things that charmed the heart 

to rest: 
Faint moonlight on the towers of ancient 

towns, 
Flattering the soul to dream of old renowns; 
The first clear silver on the mountain crest 
Where the lone eagle by his chilly nest 
Called the lone soul to brood serenely free; 
Still pools of sunlight shimmering in the sea, 
Calm after storm, wherein the storm seemed 

blest. 



B 



UT here a peace deeper than peace is furled, 
Enshrined and chaliced from the change- 
ful hour; 

The snow is still, yet lives in its own light. 

Here is the peace which brooded day and 
night, 

Before the heart of man with its wild power 

Had ever spurned or trampled the great 
world. 

[142] 



TO A CANADIAN LAD 



TO A CANADIAN LAD KILLED 
IN THE WAR 

/^\ NOBLE youth that held our honour in 
^^ keeping, 

And bore it sacred through the battle flame, 

How shall we give full measure of acclaim 

To thy sharp labour, thy immortal reaping? 

For though we sowed with doubtful hands, 
half sleeping, 

Thou in thy vivid pride hast reaped a na- 
tion, 

And brought it in with shouts and exulta- 
tion, 

With drums and trumpets, with flags flash- 
ing and leaping. 



ET us bring pungent wreaths of balsam, 

and tender 
Tendrils of wild-flowers, lovelier for thy 

daring, 

[i43] 



LYRICS, SONGS AND SONNETS 

TO A CANADIAN LAD (continued) 

And deck a sylvan shrine, where the maple 

parts 
The moonlight, with lilac bloom, and the 

splendour 
Of suns unwearied; all unwithered, wearing 
Thy valor stainless in our heart of hearts. 



[i44] 



THE CLOSED DOOR 



The dew falls and the stars fall, 

The sun falls in the west, 

But never more 

Through the closed door, 

Shall the one that I loved best 

Return to me: 

A salt tear is the sea, 

All earth's air is a sigh, 

But they never can mourn for me 

With my heart's cry, 

For the one that I loved best 

Who caressed me with her eyes, 

And every morning came to me, 

With the beauty of sunrise, 

Who was health and wealth and all, 

Who never shall answer my call, 

While the sun falls in the west, 

The dew falls and the stars fall. 



[145] 



BY A CHILD'S BED 



BY A CHILD'S BED 

SHE breathed deep, 
And stepped from out life's stream 
Upon the shore of sleep; 
And parted from the earthly noise, 
Leaving her world of toys, 
To dwell a little in a dell of dream. 



T 



HEN brooding on the love I hold so free, 

My fond possessions come to be 
Clouded with grief ; 
These fairy kisses, 
This archness innocent, 
Sting me with sorrow and disturbed con- 
tent : 
I think of what my portion might have been, 
A dearth of blisses, 
A famine of delights, 

If I had never had what now I value most ; 
Till all I have seems something I have lost ; 
A desert underneath the garden shows, 
And in a mound of cinders roots the rose. 
[i47] 



THE CLOSED DOOR 



BY A CHILD'S BED (continued) 

TJERE then I linger by the little bed, 
Till all my spirit's sphere, 
Grows one half brightness and the other 

dead, 
One half all joy, the other vague alarms ; 
And, holding each the other half in fee, 
Floats like the growing moon 
That bears implicitly 
Her lessening pearl of shadow 
Clasped in the crescent silver of her arms. 



[148] 



ELIZABETH SPEAKS 



N 



ELIZABETH SPEAKS 

(Aetat Six) 

OW every night we light the grate 

And I sit up till really late ; 
My Father sits upon the right, 
My Mother on the left, and I 
Between them on an ancient chair, 
That once belonged to my Great-Gran, 
Before my Father was a man. 
We sit without another light; 
I really, truly never tire 
Watching that space, as black as night, 
That hangs behind the fire ; 
For there sometimes, you know, 
The dearest, queerest little sparks, 
Without a sound creep to and fro; 
Sometimes they form in rings 
Or lines that look like many things, 
Like skipping ropes, or hoops, or swings 
Before you know what you're about, 
They all go out ! 

[i49] 



THE CLOSED DOOR 



ELIZABETH SPEAKS (continued) 



M 



Y Father says that they are gnomes, 

Beyond the grate they have their homes, 
In a tall, black, and windy town, 
Behind a door we cannot see. 
Often when it's time for bed 
The children run away instead, 
Out through the door to see our fire, 
Then their angry parents come 
With every candle in the town, 
The beadle with his lantern too, 
And search and rummage up and down, 
To catch the children as they play, 
Between the rows of new-mown hay, 
And bring them home ; 
(They must be, O, so very small, 
How do they capture them at all? 
But then they must be very dear) ; 
When they can find no more 
They blow a horn we cannot hear, 
And march with the beadle at their head, 
Right through the little open door, 
Then close it tight and go to bed. 

[150] 



ELIZABETH SPEAKS 



ELIZABETH SPEAKS (continued) 



M 



Y Mother says that may be so ; 

(They both agree they're gnomes, you 
know). 
She says, she thinks that every night, 
The gnomes have had a fearful fight; 
Their valiant General has been slain, 
And all the soldiers leave the camp 
To dig his grave upon the plain ; 
They drag the General on a gun; 
Every bandsman has a lamp 
And there's a torch for every one, 
They dig his grave with bayonets 
And wrap him grandly in his flag. 
Then they gather in a ring, 
The band plays very soft and low, 
And all the soldiers sing. 
(Of course we cannot hear, you know,) 
Then some one calls " The enemy comes ! " 
They muffle up their pipes and drums ; 
Every soldier in a fright 
Puts out his light. 
Then hand in hand, and very still, 

[i5i] 



THE CLOSED DOOR 



ELIZABETH SPEAKS (continued) 

They clamber up the dark, dark hill 
And hold their breath tight — tight. 

(I'd like to know which tale is right.) 

/~\ ! there is something I forgot ! 

^~^ Sometimes one little spark burns on 



Long after the rest have gone. 



M 



M 



Y Father says that lamp is left 

By a little crooked, crotchety man, 
Who cannot find his wayward son; 
When the horn begins to blow, 
He has to drop his light and run. 
Of course he limps so slow 
He squeezes through the very last, 
When he is gone the naughty scamp 
Jumps up and puff ! out goes the lamp. 

Y Mother says that is the light, 
Borne by the very bravest knight ; 

He is so very, very brave, 
He would not leave his General's grave, 
[152] 



ELIZABETH SPEAKS 



ELIZABETH SPEAKS (continued) 

And when the Enemy General tries 
To make him tell where his General lies, 
He answers boldly, "I — will — not ! " 
Then they shoot him on the spot, 
And give a horrid, dreadful shout, 
And then of course his light goes out. 

SIT and think when they are through, 
Which tale I like best of the two. 
Sometimes I like the Father one; 
It is such fun! 

But then I love the Mother one, 
That dear brave soldier and the rest : — 
Now which one do you like the best? 



[153] 



THE CLOSED DOOR 



A LEGEND OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY 



A 



T Bethlehem upon the hill, 

The day was done, the night was nigh, 
The dusk was deep and had its will, 
The stars were very small and still, 

Like unblown tapers, faint and high. 



T 



o 



HE noises had begun to fall, 

And quiet stole upon the place, 
The howl of dogs along the wall, 
Voices that from the houstops call 
And answer, and the grace 



F some low breath of even-song 

Grew faint apace : between the rocks 
In misty pastures, and along 
The dim hillside with crook and thong 
The lonely shepherds watched their flocks. 



[154] 



A LEGEND OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY 

LEGEND OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY (contd.) 

/ TT*HE Inn-master within the Inn 
* Called loudly out after this sort, 
" Draw no more water, cease the din, 
Pile the loose fodder, and begin 

To turn the mules out of the court. 



T 



T 



HE time has come to shut the gate, 

Make way," he cried, and then began 
To sweep and set the litter straight, 
And pile the saddle-bags and freight 
Of some belated caravan. 

HE drivers whirled their beasts about, 

And beat them on with shoutings great; 
The nosebags slipped, the feed flew out, 
The water-buckets reeled, the rout 
Went jostling onward to the gate. 



pAME one unto the master then, 

^^ Hasting to find him through the gloom, 
" Give us a place to rest ; " and when 
He spake, the master cried again, 

" There is no room — there is no room." 

[i55] 



THE CLOSED DOOR 



LEGEND OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY (contd.) 

44 DUT I have come from Nazareth, 
*-* Full three days' toil to Bethlehem "— 
" What matters that," the master saith, 
" For here is hardly room for breath ; 
The guests curse me for crowding them." 

"TTOLD, Sir! leave me not so, I pray" — 
■■■-'• He plucked him sudden by the sleeve, 
" My wife is with me and doth say, 
Her hour hath come, I beg you, stay, 
And make some plan for her relief." 

44r TT v WO hours ago you might have had 

The chamber wherein stands the loom; 
But then to drive me wholly mad, 
Came this great merchant from Baghdad, 
And thrust himself into the room. 



4*qp 



HERE is no other shelf to call 

A bed — But just beyond the gate, 
You may find shelter in a stall, 
If there be shelter left at all, 
You may be even now too late." 

[156] 



A LEGEND OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY 



LEGEND OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY (contd.) 



B 



EYOND the gate within the night, 

A figure rested on the ground, 
About her all the rout took flight, 
The dizzy noise, the flashing light, 
The mules were tramping all around. 



T EANING in mute expectancy, 
Beneath a stunted sycamore, 
She added darkness utterly, 
To the dim light, the shrouded tree, 
By her hands held her face before. 



A 



ND yet to mock her eye's desire, 
The cavern into which she stared, 

Was lit with disks and lines of fire; 

When triple darkness did conspire, 
The secret founts of light were bared. 

ND all the wheeling fire was rife 
" With haunting fears, her broken breath 
Grew short with this prophetic strife; 
What was for one the dawn of life, 
Would be for one the dawn of death. 

[i57] 



THE CLOSED DOOR 



LEGEND OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY (contd.) 



M 



A 



EANTIME the stranger with a lamp, 
Which lit the darkness, small and wan, 

Searched where the mules did tramp and 
stamp, 

Amid the litter and the damp, 

For some small place to rest upon. 

ND there against the furthest wall, 

Where the black shade was dense and 
deep, 
He found a mean and meager stall, 
But there when the weak light did fall, 
He found a little lad asleep. 



H 



E lifted up his childish head, 

And smiled serenely at the light, 
" And have you found him, then," he said, 
" My brother who I thought was dead, 
I lost him in the crowd last night. 



44 T TIS name is Ezra, and he is 

So tall and strong that when I try, 
Standing on tiptoe for a kiss 
[158] 



A LEGEND OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY 



LEGEND OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY (contd.) 

I could not reach, except for this, 
He lifts me up so easily. 



"i 



HAD two little doves to take 

Up to the booths "— he held his breath, 
" Peace, child ! and for your mother's sake, 
Yield me this place — nay, nay ! awake ! 
My weary wife is sick to death." 



"T WILL," the little lad replied 
** "I promised never to forget 
My mother, years ago she died, 
I will lie out on the hillside, 

And I may find dear Ezra yet." 



A ND now she drooped her weary head, 
^"^ Within that comfortless manger, 
It might have been a palace bed, 
With canopy of gold instead, 
So little did she know or care. 
[i59] 



THE CLOSED DOOR 



LEGEND OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY (contd.) 

Gentle Jesus, slumber mild, 

Lullaby, lullaby; 
Succored by a little child, 

Lull, lullaby. 

You of children are the king, 

Lullaby, lullaby; 
Sovereign to all ministering, 

Lull, lullaby. 

Grace you bring them from above, 

Lullaby, lullaby; 
They give promise, lisping love, 

Lull, lullaby. 

ND out upon the darkened hill, 

With all the quiet-pastured sheep, 
Charmed by the falling of a rill, 
Where in the pool it cadenced still, 
The little lad was fallen asleep. 

LL his young dreams were robed with 
power. 
And glad were all his vision folk; 
He wandered on from hour to hour, 
With Ezra, happy as a flower 

That blooms safe-shadowed by the oak. 
[160] 



A LEGEND OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY 



LEGEND OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY (contd.) 



B 



UT once before his dreams were told, 
He thought he saw within the deep 
Vault of the sky a rose unfold, 
Made all of fire and lovely gold, 
Whose petals seemed to glow and leap, 



A 



S if each dewy, crystal cell 

Were a great angel live with light, 
And trembling to the coronal, 
Merging in sheen of pearl and shell, 

With his great comrade, equal, bright, 



T TNTIL the petals flashed and sprang, 
*^ And folded to the central heart: 

Music there was that showered and rang, 
As if each angel harped and sang, 
Controlled by some celestial art. 



T 



HE child saw splendor without name, 

And turned and smiled, and all the noise 
Of strings and singing sank; it came 
Faint and dream-altered, yet the same, 
Soft-tempered to his mother's voice. 
[161] 



THE CLOSED DOOR 



LEGEND OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY (contd.) 

Slumber, slumber, gentle child, 

Lullaby, lullaby; 
Sweet as henna, dear and mild, 

Lull, lullaby. 

You the first of all the race, 

Lullaby, lullaby; 
Gave your master early grace, 

Lull, lullaby. 

Gave a shelter for his head, 

Lullaby, lullaby; 
Took the chilly earth instead, 

Lull, lullaby. 

Now take comfort infant earth, 

Lullaby, lullaby; 
Jesus Christ is come to birth, 

Lull, lullaby. 

For his principality, 

Lullaby, lullaby; 
Children cluster at his knee, 

Lull, lullaby. 

Hail the heaven-happy age, 

Lullaby, lullaby; 
Love begins his pilgrimage, 

Lull, lullaby. 



[162] 



WILLOW-PIPES 



WILLOW-PIPES 

*0 in the shadow by the nimble flood 

He made her whistles of the willow wood, 
Flutes of one note with mellow slender tone; 
(A robin piping in the dusk alone). 
Lively the pleasure was the wand to bruise, 
And notch the light rod for its lyric use, 
Until the stem gave up its tender sheath, 
And showed the white and glistening wood 

beneath. 
And when the ground was covered with 

light chips, 
Grey leaves and green, and twigs and tender 

slips, 
They placed the well-made whistles in a row 
And left them for the careless wind to blow. 



[163] 



THE CLOSED DOOR 



ANGEL 

P'OME to me when grief is over, 
^^ When the tired eyes, 

Seek thy cloudy wings to cover 
Close their burning skies. 



/^OME to me when tears have dwindled 
^ _> ^ Into drops of dew, 

When the sighs like sobs re-kindled 
Are but deep and few. 



H 



OLD me like a crooning mother, 

Heal me of the smart; 
All mine anguish let me smother 

In thy brooding heart. 



[164] 



T 



T 



CHRISTMAS FOLK-SONG 



CHRISTMAS FOLK-SONG 

HOSE who die on Christmas Day 

(I heard the triumphant Seraph say) 
Will be remembered, for they died 
Upon the Holy Christmastide ; 
When they attain to Paradise, 
The Angels with the tranquil Eyes 
Will ask if Jesus rules on Earth 
The Anniversary of His Birth; 
This Question do they ask alway 
Of those who die on Christmas Day. 

HOSE who are born on Christmas Day 

(I heard the triumphant Seraph say) 
Will bring again the Peace on Earth 
That came with gentle Christ His Birth; 
They may be lowly Folk and poor 
Living about the Manger Door, 
They may be Kings of Mighty Line, 
Their Lives alike will be benign; 
To them belongeth Peace alway, 
Those who are born on Christmas Day. 
[165] 



THE CLOSED DOOR 



FROM BEYOND 

TTERE there is balm for every tender heart 
Wounded by life ; 
Rest for each one who bore a valiant part 
Crushed in the strife. 



T SUFFERED there and held a losing fight 
Even to the grave ; 
And now I know that it was very right 
To suffer and be brave. 



[166] 



THE LEAF 



T. 



B 



THE LEAF 

HIS silver-edged geranium leaf 
Is one sign of a bitter grief 
Whose symbols are a myriad more ; 
They cluster round a carven stone 
Where she who sleeps is never alone 
For two hearts at the core, 



OUND with her heart make one of three, 

A trinity in unity, 
One sentient heart that grieves; 
And myriad dark-leaved memories keep 
Vigil above the triune sleep, — 
Edged all with silver are the leaves. 



[167] 



THE CLOSED DOOR 



A MYSTERY PLAY 

CHARACTERS 

The Father. The Child. Death. Angels. 

Two Travellers. 
***** 

rHE even settles still and deep, 
In the cold sky the last gold burns, 
Across the colour snowflakes creep. 
Each one from grey to glory turns 
Then flutters into nothingness; 
The frost down falls with mighty stress 
Through the swift cloud that parts on high; 
The great stars shrivel into less 
In the hard depth of the iron sky. 



The Child: 

What is that light, dear father, 
That light in the dark, dark sky? 

The Father: 

Those are the lights of the city 
And the villages thereby. 
[168] 



A MYSTERY PLAY 



A MYSTERY PLAY (continued) 
The Child: 

There must be fire in the city 

To throw that yellow glare ; 
And fire in the little villages 

On all the hearthstones there. 

The Father, musing: 

Yea, flames are on the hearthstones; 

The ovens are full of bread, 
But here the coals are dying 

And the flames are dead. 

The Child: 

What is the cold, dear father? 

It stings like an angry bee. 
Wherever it stings my hand turns white, 

See! 

The Father: 

The cold is a beast, my dear one, 

With his paws he tears at the thatch, 

His breath is a curse and a warning, 
You can see it creep on the latch. 
[169] 



THE CLOSED DOOR 



A MYSTERY PLAY (continued) 

The Child: 

If 'tis a wolf, dear father, 

That lies with his paw on the floor, 
Let us heat the spade in the embers 

And drive him away from the door. 

Angels: 

God is the power of growth, 
In the snail and the tree, 
God is the power of growth 
In the heart of the man. 

The Child: 

Did you not hear the singing, 

Voices overhead? 
Mother's voice and Ruth's voice, 

Voices of the dead. 

The Father, musing: 

Our Ruth died in the springtime, 
With the spade I turned the sod, 

We buried her by the brier rose, 
Her life is hid with God. 
[170] 



A MYSTERY PLAY 



A MYSTERY PLAY (continued) 

The Child: 
All summer long in the garden 

No roses came to the tree. 
Father, was it for sorrow, 

Sorrow for thee and me? 

The Father: 
Roses grew in the garden, 

I saw them at morning and even, 
Shadows of earthly roses 

They bloomed for fingers in heaven. 



The air is very clear and still, 

The moonlight falls from half the sphere; 

The shadow from the silver hill 

Fills half the vale, and half is clear 

As the moon's self with cloudless snow; 

By the dead stream the alders throw 

Their shadows, shot with tingling spars; 

On the sheer height the elm trees glow: 

Their tops are tangled with the stars. 



[I7i] 



THE CLOSED DOOR 



A MYSTERY PLAY (continued) 
The Child: 

Father, the coals are dying, 
See ! I have heated the spade, 

Let me throw the door wide open, 
I will not be afraid. 

The Father: 

Let me kiss you once on the forehead, 
And once on your darling eyes ; 

We may see them both at the dawning, 
In the dales of Paradise. 

The Child: 

And if I only see them, 

I will tell them how you smiled ; 
For the wolf, you know, is angry, 

And I am a little child. 

Death: 
Undaunted spirits, 
I give thee peace, 
For a world of dread — 
Calm. 

[172] 



A MYSTERY PLAY 



A MYSTERY PLAY (continued) 

For desperate toil — 

Rest. 

Thou who didst say, 

When the waters of poverty 

Waxed deep, deep, 

What we bear is best; 

Just ones, 

I give thee sleep. 

First Traveller: 

Keep up your spirits, I know 
There's a cabin under the hill, 
The fellow will make a roaring fire ; 
We'll heat our hands and drink our fill 
And go warm to our heart's desire ! 

Second Traveller: 

The door is open, — Heigho ! 

This pair will claim neither crown nor groat, 

The man has gripped his garden spade 

As if he would dig his grave in the snow ; 

The boy has the face of a saint, I trow; 

His brow says, " I was not afraid ! " 

[i73] 



THE CLOSED DOOR 



A MYSTERY PLAY (continued) 
First Traveller: 

Ah well, these things must be, you know ! 
Gather your sables around your throat; 
Give us that story about the monk, 
His niece, and the wandering conjurer, 
Just to keep our blood astir. 

The Angels: 

The heart of God, 

The worlds and man, 

Are fashioned and moulded, 

In a subtle plan; 

Passion outsurges, 

Sweeps far but converges; 

Nothing is lost, 

Sod or stone, 

But comes to its own; 

Bear well thy joy, 

'Tis mixed with alloy, 

Bear well thy grief, 

'Tis a rich full sheaf: 



cm] 



A MYSTERY PLAY 



A MYSTERY PLAY (continued) 

Gather the souls that have passed in the night, 
Theirs is the peace and the light. 



The moon is gone, the dawning brings 
A deeper dark with silver blent, 
A bove the wells where, myriad, springs 
Light from the crimson orient; 
The elms are born, the shadows creep, 
Tremble and melt away — one sweep 
The great soft color floods and Hows, 
Where under snow the roses sleep; 
The morn has turned the snow to rose. 



[175] 



LINES IN MEMORY OF 
EDMUND MORRIS 



IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS 



D 



LINES IN MEMORY OF 
EDMUND MORRIS 

EAR MORRIS— here is your letter- 
Can my answer reach you now? 
Fate has left me your debtor, 
You will remember how; 
For I went away to Nantucket, 
And you to the Isle of Orleans, 
And when I was dawdling and dreaming 
Over the ways and means 
Of answering, the power was denied me, 
Fate frowned and took her stand; 
I have your unanswered letter 
Here in my hand. 
This — in your famous scribble, 
It was ever a cryptic fist, 
Cuneiform or Chaldaic 
Meanings held in a mist. 



[i79] 



IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS 



MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS (contd.) 



D 



EAR MORRIS, (now I'm inditing 

And poring over your script) 
I gather from the writing, 
The coin that you had flipt, 
Turned tails; and so you compel me 
To meet you at Touchwood Hills: 
Or, mayhap, you are trying to tell me 
The sum of a painter's ills: 
Is that Phimister Proctor 
Or something about a doctor? 
Well, nobody knows, but Eddie, 
Whatever it is I'm ready. 



^OR our friendship was always fortunate 

In its greetings and adieux, 
Nothing flat or importunate, 
Nothing of the misuse 
That comes of the constant grinding 
Of one mind on another. 
So memory has nothing to smother, 
But only a few things captured 
On the wing, as it were, and enraptured. 
[180] 



I 



IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS 

MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS (contd.) 

Yes, Morris, I am inditing — 
Answering at last it seems, 
How can you read the writing 
In the vacancy of dreams? 

WOULD have you look over my shoulder 
Ere the long, dark year is colder, , 

And mark that as memory grows older, 
The brighter it pulses and gleams. 
And if I should try to render 
The tissues of fugitive splendour 
That fled down the wind of living, 
Will they read it some day in the future, 
And be conscious of an awareness 
In our old lives, and the bareness 
Of theirs, with the newest passions 
In the last fad of the fashions? 



H 



OW often have we risen without daylight 
When the day star was hidden in mist, 
When the dragon-fly was heavy with dew 
and sleep, 

[181] 



IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS 

MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS (contd.) 

And viewed the miracle pre-eminent, match- 
less, 

The prelusive light that quickens the 
morning. 

O crystal dawn, how shall we distill your vir- 
ginal freshness 

When you steal upon a land that man has 
not sullied with his intrusion, 

When the aboriginal shy dwellers in the 
broad solitudes 

Are asleep in their innumerable dens and 
night haunts 

Amid the dry ferns, in the tender nests 

Pressed into shape by the breasts of the 
Mother birds? 

How shall we simulate the thrill of an- 
nouncement 

When lake after lake lingering in the star- 
light 

Turn their faces towards you, 

And are caressed with the salutation of 
colour? 

[182] 



IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS 



MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS (contd.) 

TTOW shall we transmit in tendril-like images, 
A A The tenuous tremor in the tissues of 
ether, 
Before the round of colour buds like the 

dome of a shrine, 
The preconscious moment when love has 

fluttered in the bosom, 
Before it begins to ache? 



T TOW often have we seen the even 
A A Melt into the liquidity of twilight, 
With passages of Titian splendour, 
Pellucid preludes, exquisitely tender, 
Where vanish and revive, thro* veils of the 

ashes of roses, 
The crystal forms the breathless sky dis- 
closes. 



'TpHE new moon a slender thing, 
A In a snood of virgin light, 
She seemed all shy on venturing 
Into the vast night. 

[183] 



IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS 



MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS (contd.) 



H 



ER own land and folk were afar, 

She must have gone astray, 
But the gods had given a silver star, 
To be with her on the way. 



i 



CAN feel the wind on the prairie 
And see the bunch-grass wave, 
And the sunlights ripple and vary 
The hill with Crowfoot's grave, 
Where he " pitched off " for the last time 
In sight of the Blackfoot Crossing, 
Where in the sun for a pastime 
You marked the site of his tepee 
With a circle of stones. Old Napiw 
Gave you credit for that day. 
And well I recall the weirdness 
Of that evening at Qu'Appelle, 
In the wigwam with old Sakimay, 
The keen, acrid smell, 
As the kinnikinick was burning; 
The planets outside were turning, 
[184] 



IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS 

MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS (contd.) 

And the little splints of poplar 

Flared with a thin, gold flame. 

He showed us his painted robe 

Where in primitive pigments 

He had drawn his feats and his forays, 

And told us the legend 

Of the man without a name, 

The hated Blackfoot, 

How he lured the warriors, 

The young men, to the foray 

And they never returned. 

Only their ghosts 

Goaded by the Blackfoot 

Mounted on stallions: 

In the night time 

He drove the stallions 

Reeking into the camp; 

The women gasped and whispered, 

The children cowered and crept, 

And the old men shuddered 

Where they slept. 

When Sakimay looked forth 

He saw the Blackfoot, 

[185] 



IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS 

MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS (contd.) 

And the ghosts of the warriors, 
And the black stallions 
Covered by the night wind 
As by a mantle. 



i 



REMEMBER well a day, 
When the sunlight had free play, 
When you worked in happy stress, 
While grave Ne-Pah-Pee-Ness 
Sat for his portrait there, 
In his beaded coat and his bare 
Head, with his mottled fan 
Of hawk's feathers, A Man ! 
Ah Morris, those were the times 
When you sang your inconsequent rhymes 
Sprung from a careless fountain: 



He met her on the mountain, 

He gave her a horn to blow, 

And the very last words he said to her 

Were, ' Go 'long, Eliza, go.' " 



[186] 



IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS 



MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS (contd.) 

Foolish, — but life was all, 

And under the skilful fingers 

Contours came at your call — 

Art grows and time lingers ; — 

But now the song has a change 

Into something wistful and strange. 

And one asks with a touch of ruth 

What became of the youth 

And where did Eliza go? 

He met her on the mountain, 

He gave her a horn to blow, 

The horn was a silver whorl 

With a mouthpiece of pure pearl, 

And the mountain was all one glow, 

With gulfs of blue and summits of rosy snow. 

The cadence she blew on the silver horn 

Was the meaning of life in one phrase caught, 

And as soon as the magic notes were born, 

She repeated them once in an afterthought. 

They heard in the crystal passes, 

The cadence, calling, calling, 

And faint in the deep crevasses, 

The echoes falling, falling. 

[187] 



IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS 

MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS (contd.) 

They stood apart and wondered; 
Her lips with a wound were aquiver, 
His heart with a sword was sundered, 
For life was changed forever 
When he gave her the horn to blow: 
But a shadow arose from the valley, 
Desolate, slow and tender, 
It hid the herdsmen's chalet, 
Where it hung in the emerald meadow, 
(Was death driving the shadow?) 
It quenched the tranquil splendour 
Of the colour of life on the glow-peaks, 
Till at the end of the even, 
The last shell-tint on the snow-peaks 
Had passed away from the heaven. 
And yet, when it passed, victorious, 
The stars came out on the mountains, 
And the torrents gusty and glorious, 
Clamoured in a thousand fountains, 
And even far down in the valley, 
A light re-discovered the chalet. 
The scene that was veiled had a meaning, 
So deep that none might know; 
[188] 



IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS 

MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS (contd.) 

Was it here in the morn on the mountain, 
That he gave her the horn to blow? 

Jj» Sp 3J* *J» *J* 



T 



EARS are the crushed essence of this world, 
The wine of life, and he who treads the 

press 
Is lofty with imperious disregard 
Of the burst grapes, the red tears and the 

murk. 
But nay ! that is a thought of the old poets, 
Who sullied life with the passional bitterness 
Of their world-weary hearts. We of the 

sunrise, 
Joined in the breast of God, feel deep the 

power 
That urges all things onward, not to an end, 
But in an endless flow, mounting and 

mounting, 
Claiming not overmuch for human life, 
Sharing with our brothers of nerve and leaf 
The urgence of the one creative breath, — 
All in the dim twilight — say of morning, 
[189] 



IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS 

MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS (contd.) 

Where the florescence of the light and dew 
Haloes and hallows with a crown adorning 
The brows of life with love ; herein the clue, 
The love of life — yea, and the peerless love 
Of things not seen, that leads the least of 

things 
To cherish the green sprout, the hardening 

seed; 
Here leans all nature with vast Mother-love, 
Above the cradled future with a smile. 
Why are there tears for failure, or sighs for 

weakness, 
While life's rhythm beats on? Where is the 

rule 
To measure the distance we have circled 

and clomb? 
Catch up the sands of the sea and count 

and count 
The failures hidden in our sum of conquest. 
Persistence is the master of this life; 
The master of these little lives of ours ; 
To the end — effort — even beyond the end. 

[190] 



IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS 



MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS (contd.) 

TJERE, Morris, on the plains that we have 
■*■ *• loved, 

Think of the death of Akoose, fleet of foot, 
Who, in his prime, a herd of antelope 
From sunrise, without rest, a hundred miles 
Drove through rank prairie, loping like a 

wolf, 
Tired them and slew them, ere the sun went 

down. 
Akoose, in his old age, blind from the smoke 
Of tepees and the sharp snow light, alone 
With his great grandchildren, withered and 

spent, 
Crept in the warm sun along a rope 
Stretched for his guidance. Once when 

sharp autumn 
Made membranes of thin ice upon the 

sloughs, 
He caught a pony on a quick return 
Of prowess and, all his instincts cleared 

and quickened, 
He mounted, sensed the north and bore 

away 

[191] 



IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS 

MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS (contd.) 

To the Last Mountain Lake where in his 

youth 
He shot the sand-hill-cranes with his flint 

arrows. 
And for these hours in all the varied pomp 
Of pagan fancy and free dreams of foray 
And crude adventure, he ranged on en- 
tranced, 
Until the sun blazed level with the prairie, 
Then paused, faltered and slid from off his 

pony. 
In a little bluff of poplars, hid in the 

bracken, 
He lay down ; the populace of leaves 
In the lithe poplars whispered together and 

trembled, 
Fluttered before a sunset of gold smoke, 
With interspaces, green as sea water, 
And calm as the deep water of the sea. 

/ I S HERE Akoose lay, silent amid the bracken, 
Gathered at last with the Algonquin Chief- 
tains. 

[192] 



IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS 

MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS (contd.) 

Then the tenebrous sunset was blown out, 
And all the smoky gold turned into cloud 

wrack. 
Akoose slept forever amid the poplars, 
Swathed by the wind from the far-off Red 

Deer 
Where dinosaurs sleep, clamped in their 

rocky tombs. 
Who shall count the time that lies between 
The sleep of Akoose and the dinosaurs? 
Innumerable time, that yet is like the breath 
Of the long wind that creeps upon the prairie 
And dies away with the shadows at sundown. 



\X7HAT we may think, who brood upon the 
** theme, 

Is, when the old world, tired of spinning, 

has fallen 
Asleep, and all the forms, that carried the 

fire 
Of life, are cold upon her marble heart — 
[i93] 



IN MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS 

MEMORY OF EDMUND MORRIS (contd.) 

Like ashes on the altar — just as she stops, 
That something will escape of soul or 

essence, — 
The sum of life, to kindle otherwhere: 
Just as the fruit of a high sunny garden, 
Grown mellow with autumnal sun and rain, 
Shrivelled with ripeness, splits to the rich 

heart, 
And looses a gold kernel to the mould, 
So the old world, hanging long in the sun, 
And deep enriched with effort and with 

love, 
Shall, in the motions of maturity, 
Wither and part, and the kernel of it all 
Escape, a lovely wraith of spirit, to lati- 
tudes 
Where the appearance, throated like a bird, 
Winged with fire and bodied all with 

passion, 
Shall flame with presage, not of tears, but 
joy. 

THE END 
[194] 



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